HSWC Fills
by Bhel-Elryss
Summary: A place to put my Homestuck Shipping World Cup fills where more people can see them, I guess :) All ship types, varying ships.
1. JohnDavesprite Br1

**John(diamonds)Davesprite: Castle in the Sky type adventure? **

_I lost the prompt, so I'm not entirely sure what the prompt was, I just have a fill sitting around for it. _

* * *

John Egbert received his paper back with bated breath, that much even his teacher could tell. Nine years old, and so excited to get his first grade of the year. His face fell however, when he saw the red numbers next to his painstakingly printed title.

"A sixty? Ms. Lalonde!" John whined, voice trembling in time to the wobble of his lower lip. "That's not even passing!"

"Well," Ms. Lalonde said brusquely, adjusting her headband quickly, "You made up forty percent of your essay, even after my explicit directions otherwise. Clearly, you only deserved sixty percentage of the best possible grade." Judgment rendered, she shuffled the papers in her arms. "I called your father, who verified much of what you wrote. That's why it's as much as a sixty, John." She said kindly, "Just remember, John, that Skaia isn't real. Winged people aren't real."

John was silent, angry, disappointed, and defiantly sure he was in the right all at once. "He was real," John told himself as he went to his class. "Skaia is real," he reaffirmed to himself after school was over.

And then, after rushing off his school bus and up the stairs to his room, he upturned one drawer in his dresser. Holding orange feathers to his chest he whispered, "Ms. Lalonde is wrong." It was comforting to know, that despite what his teachers and father thought, that what he remembered was real.

He really did meet a bird-boy. John actually put his feet on Skaia, and actually saw its beauty. He bandaged, to the best of his meager ability, a native Skaian's broken wing. He helped him get back home! He was a hero! That's what the bird-kid had said, before they'd parted.

But when they'd met, it was hardly like that.

"Hey," the stranger had croaked, "hey, do you live anywhere close by?" He'd emphasized close, and he looked an awful lot like he was going to pass out at any moment. He'd held his left arm close to his body, and kept his face covered with aviator's goggles and a dingy bandana. It was hard to tell how old he was, or what he looked like, but it was clear he wasn't too much older than John.

And well, stranger or not, he was injured and John felt bad for him. So he had invited him into his house, which had only been a little over a five-minute walk away, and sat the guy down at the table. "So…what's your name?" John had asked, curious about so many things, but starting out with what he thought was the obvious.

"Name's David St- Sprite. But you can call me Dave." Dave said quickly, from underneath the bandana. He'd taken the goggles off once he'd entered the house, letting strawberry blond hair fall into scary red eyes, but he'd not moved the bandana from it's place. His hands were sort of clawed, which was weird, but John wasn't going to judge him.

"So what's wrong with your arm?" John asked, tired of outright staring at the bandana fabric. And Dave had mentioned he'd broken it, falling from his…plane. Which had pissed John off because they were about the same age, and John wasn't allowed to have a plane of any size until he was twelve!

But, he'd dutifully called his father in from the study to help them bandage Dave's arm. And, because Dave couldn't tell them where he lived, it was decided that Dave Sprite would share a room with John Egbert. And over the next week, the two became fast friends (though Dave would never take the bandana off his face, waking or sleeping) through the glorious and noble pursuit of exploration. Of course there were a few slipups on Dave's behalf, the child was hiding things after all.

"Are those…feathers on your arm?"

"Are you mocking my medical condition, Egbert?"

But in the end, the truth became clear. Not because Dave chose to share though, oh no. It was because John saw something he shouldn't have. "Dave, oh my God. You have a beak!" And, red eyes wide, Dave looked shocked to be caught with his bandana hanging down about his neck. And sure enough, where his lips should have been, a tiny beak was instead. "You're a bird-man!"

Dave looked mortified, and his hair stood on end in his embarrassment to reveal strawberry blond feathers hidden in the little layers. "Ugh," he'd sort of yelped, obviously trying to find some sort of excuse to make the excited look in John's eyes go away.

"You live on Skaia, right? The flying castle? How'd you leave? When are you going back? Can I come?" John babbled, hands flying as he wiggled in excitement.

Dave frowned, and stood in silence for a long time before tugging the bandana back up to his nose. "I fell…because it was storming. Bad for flying," he explained, and sort of waggled his arms for effect. "I don't know where it is, the stupid pendant won't work." And he flicked a medallion that John hadn't noticed out from underneath his shirt collar.

"Is it broken?"

"Dunno. Normally it lights up a little beacon…it's just sort of been glowing weakly at night."

"Well, if your pendant thing isn't working at my house, maybe I can help you find a place where it will work!"

They ended up having to walk fourteen miles out of town, where the pendant suddenly began working again. John tagged along with Dave to Skaia, where he literally got to see it in all its glory. Together they stole an aircraft, and Dave disembarked to the happy embrace of his girlfriend Jade Sprite (apparently Sprite was a sort of title for young adults). John flew home and returned the "borrowed" airplane, before returning to his own home.

He'd never gotten scolded so badly before by his father, but the feathers in his drawer and the memories of that day were more than enough to have made it worth it.


	2. KarkatEveryone Br1

**Everyone/Karkat: Remember when everyone tried to get Karkat to sleep?**

* * *

"Karkat," Kanaya said gently, reaching out to touch his shoulder but drawing back at the last moment, "Karkat, you need to sleep. You're not looking so good." And it was true, the dark bruises under his eyes were more prominent than ever, and occasionally he'd space out and stare blankly at the same blank slab of wall for minutes. "Please, you're worrying me."

Karkat rolled his eyes and waved her off. "Well don't worry," he scoffed, "I'll go to sleep in a few hours." Kanaya nodded, not convinced but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and walked away. Shaking his head and stifling a yawn, Karkat turned back to his husktop. Really. Why would he sleep, when there's still so much to do!

Terezi pokes her head in hours later, sniffing loudly. "Karkat!" She grins, mouth stretched wide to accommodate her fangs. "What are you still doing up," she quips, a near vicious tone to her interrogation. "Didn't you promise Miss Minty you'd sleep?"

Karkat flushes in embarrassment, "Well, I did sleep," he lies, "I just didn't sleep long." He tucks his chin into his sweater, hiding the telltale red flush of his cheeks out of habit. He hunches his shoulders defensively and his lower lip juts out. "Any anyway it's none of your business!" Karkat barks, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"I can smell you're lying!" Terezi sings, but drops the topic. She doesn't leave though, merely makes herself comfortable in a pile of scalemates. In fact, she makes a big show of getting comfortable, and indeed, the soft plush calls him. But he's got so many responsibilities to do. He needs to track down Gamzee, that psychotic troll is still missing.

No, there's no rest for the weary.

Dave and Rose come together, but neither says a word. Karkat begins to angrily tell them both off, and even includes Terezi (who is still sleeping in the corner) in his rant. However, this is all cut short when Dave literally flips him over his shoulder. With a shriek of anger, Karkat drums his fists against his fellow knight's back, "Put me down!"

Rose chuckles when Dave replies, "Hm, well that's an idea. I see your point, and wow, what a good one too! But no." And that was that. Karkat tries to piece together where they're going from the walls they pass, but he seems to be unable to tell these grey slabs of wall from the other grey slabs of wall he knows more intimately. So eventually he just goes limp, and tries to enjoy being carried like a damn wiggler.

He can't bring himself to feel happy about it, but it is sort of soothing. His eyes droop, and his head sort of flops down to rest uneasily on Dave's spine. He barely registers the sensation of being tucked into a pile of pillows and literally buried under blankets. "Sleep well, Karkles," Dave says, offhandedly, as he files out of the room with Rose.


	3. KanayaKarkat Br1

**Kanaya(diamonds)Karkat: Remember when Kanaya didn't turn into a rainbow drinker after Eridan shot her through?**

* * *

He found her too late. Hole in her stomach and eyes wide with surprise, Kanaya was clearly dead. Oh God, he thought, stomach churning with horror. Bile rose to the back of his throat and he turned and vomited on the floor. "Oh God," he croaked. Over in the corner lay Feferi (also dead), and a barely breathing Sollux was over there lying on top of shattered monitors. "Kanaya," he whimpered, reaching for her but pulling back before he could pap at her face.

She wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, and she was – she was dead! Someone killed her. Who killed her? His moirail was dead and _someone killed her_. With rage boiling like fire through his veins, he turned toward the door and snarled. Someone had killed her and he would have his revenge.

As Karkat geared up, checking his inventory for weapons and donning his toughest sweater, bandaging his knuckles in case things devolved into a literal fistfight, he allowed his rage to grow. All that fear he experienced growing up on Alternia, wrong and marked for death, he let turn into rage.

All he saw was red, and well if his suspicions were right soon enough he'd be seeing some shades of purple. He remembered to drag Sollux into some out of the way corner, locked him in to keep him safe, and then disappeared into the vents. He wasn't going to give Kanaya's murderer time to see him coming.

The vents were filthy, the dust and grime turning his jade covered hands a filthy looking brown. It only served to fuel his ire though, and he swore again that whoever had done this thing would die a horrible, agonizing death. He was going to disembowel them, and choke them with their own entrails, and they were going to deserve every minute of it.

There was a reason that you never killed a troll's moirail, after all.

He crawled through the vents for hours, following different pathways and tracking down each of his friends. Tavros he found dead at the bottom of the stairs, killed by his own lance, Vriska had been stabbed through the chest…Nepeta and Equius lay dead side by side, and he had seemingly lost the ability to care. He felt the sadness at their deaths of course; he had been their leader. But he was also hatred and fury incarnate, and there was no room for softer emotions in him.

He found Eridan on the roof, facing down Terezi and Gamzee. And when he arrived, the dynamic changed. With the wild looks in the others' eyes, it was clear that Terezi was the only sane troll left. She couldn't smell that however, and no one was willing to back down from the quadruple staring contest to give her the opportunity to find it out.

Until Karkat spotted the jade splattering Eridan's violet cape, which was when the whole thing devolved into hell. Sickle swinging, blade reflecting the poor lighting, and Karkat's feral screaming shattered the uneasy peace. At that moment, Gamzee and Terezi lunged forward even as Eridan grabbed for his wand.

The battle was short and fierce and in the end all four of the combatants were sporting major injuries, if they weren't outright dead. Gamzee had Terezi's cane-sword shoved through his jugular, and had major stab wounds seeping purple in the vicinity of his major organs. Terezi herself had a shattered arm, and missing teeth. But she was alive where her opponent was not.

Eridan was dead, Karkat's sickle having cleaved him in half after severing his wand arm. But Karkat had suffered as well, and Eridan's only shot had been well placed. His red blood pulsed out of a hole in his upper shoulder, even as Terezi fought to stem the bleeding. She was fighting a losing battle, and they both knew it. Karkat stared out over Terezi's shoulder, thought he saw a flicker of red wings…and died.


	4. DaveJadeJohnRose Br1

**Jade/John/Dave/Rose: Remember when Dave tried to run a D&D campaign but the others ruined it by trying to seduce every NPC?**

* * *

"I roll to kiss the waitress." John says, eyeing the board. His noble, human ranger had entered into a bar with the rest of his party, and apparently had scored big time by landing the hottest serving wench as his waitress. With a flick of his wrist, the dice goes rolling. Please Lord, Dave thinks, let it not be a natural twenty.

It's a natural twenty. "I kiss the girl!" John crows, and waits for Dave to make it formal. Dave shakes his head in silent protest, cursing Rose six ways to Sunday.

"Come on Dave, it's only fair! If my cleric can bone the hot alien barkeep, why can't John kiss the girl?" Rose says primly, looking at Dave over her interlaced fingers. As a matter of fact, Rose had made it a habit to have her very "celibate" cleric sleep with every attractive woman they come across. Dave had been about to have her catch a sexually transmitted infection, but somehow Rose had sensed it. Now her cleric has super safe, protected lesbian sex with every hot woman the party encounters.

"Hate you, Rose." Dave moans, burying his head in his arms.

"Love you too, brother."

"When do I get to roll?" Jade mourns, her character having been asleep for the past six turns. "I want to seduce the NPCs too, Dave. It's not fair that John and Rose get to have all the fun!"

"Why, why do you all hate me? Is it because of the whole thing with Karkat? I told you guys before we started playing that the campaign wasn't going to end well!" Dave accused. The joint campaign with Terezi Pyrope's D&D group had ended poorly. The whole thing had gone to hell the second Pyrope had introduced Pyralspite, the Dread Dragon of Doom. Karkat's character's tantrum at having to fight a literal god-modded dragon had managed to get everyone killed.

Needless to say, they'd totally thrown that campaign and its results out. But that was a digression. "Dave," Rose said, voice disappointed, "Are we continuing on or what?"

Dave frowned, "Sorry. Okay. John kisses the girl." John crowed on the other side of the table, quietly rubbing his success in Jade's face. Really, if she wanted to seduce the NPCs her orc would have to wake up first!

Jade scowled in concentration, blowing on the dice for luck, "Come on," she muttered, "wake me up!" Letting the dice go, they clacked on the table and came to rest. "Yes!" She hissed, "I'm awake!"

"Yes good." Dave said calmly, though on the inside he was crying. Because now Jade was thinking aloud about all the NPCs she wanted to kiss. Lord have mercy on his soul, because his friends certainly wouldn't.


	5. JohnDave Br1

**Dave(hearts)John: Remember when Dave learned to ball dance completely unironically?**

* * *

"Dave!" John cried out, breathless and giddy as he slumped into a chair, "You never told me you could dance!" Tonight was their fourth date, and as it had been Dave's turn to plan, the whole thing had come as a surprise.

"John," Dave murmured, baritone voice calm and steady, "You knew I could dance, we met at a night club." There was just a hint of a smirk at the edges of his lips, not that the tone of his voice gave it away.

"Where you DJ. This is totally different and you know it!" John accused. Dave made a noncommittal noise, merely scooted his own chair closer to John's so that their knees knocked together. All in all the picture they presented, with their heads together and hands entwined, was hardly in keeping with the austere atmosphere they'd immersed themselves in.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity more, foreheads pressed together as John stared with intent into Dave's expressive eyes. And they probably would have stayed that way until John had gotten the information he craved, had Dave not suddenly taken advantage of their immediate proximity to each other.

Having, during their silent staring match, moved subtly forward, Dave had found himself in prime position to begin ministrations on John's person. With great pleasure, his fingertips trailed little circles on the inside of John's thighs as Dave himself rolled his hips forward and bit his lower lip. If John weren't so very aroused, he would have found his date's actions humorous.

"John," Dave said with an exhale, "I brought you here to dance, not so you could interrogate me." His hands caressed their way to John's hips, where they gripped gently. "So," Dave drawled, "Are we going to dance?"

John swallowed visibly, trying very hard not to stare at his boyfriend's very tempting, very visible hints of muscled chest. Was it not a crime to be a tease, especially a tease that purposefully wore a form-fitting dress shirt with two buttons left open (and then _leaned_ in to accentuate it!)?

"Fine," John huffed, pushing his chair back and away from Dave to get some space. "One waltz, just one, and then you tell me when you learned how to ballroom dance!"

"Or," Dave suggests, voice low, "we could do three more waltzes, go back to my place for the night…and I'll tell you right now." His voice is rough, but there's just a hint of self-satisfied purring in it, and his expression is downright predatory.

John spends a second thinking about it. "Nic Cage marathon or I say no." he demands, punctuating his sentence by standing.

In answer, Dave gets to his own feet and steps in close, smiling triumphantly. "Professional ballroom dancer," he whispered into John's ear, "Four year running state champion. Started at thirteen, continuing to today. Now," and Dave paused to blow air on the shell of John's ear, "let's go dance."


	6. JadeKarkat Br1

**Jade(hearts)Karkat: Remember when aspiring young witch Jade Harley found Karkat who was cursed to be in the form a cat?**

* * *

It was like finding a four-leaf clover, or a double headed snake. In short: really, really cool. You mean, how often was it you found a talking cat! See, your puppy Bec was a proper familiar, blessed with lots of neat powers and a smidgeon of omnipotence, but he still couldn't talk. So yes, it was a BIG DEAL, and you were appropriately excited, thank you very much.

Not that the cat said very nice things of course. In fact, it seemed to have a bit of a potty mouth. Well…actually it was mostly a potty mouth. Actually it was the sort of potty mouth that would put a sailor to shame, and you lived right by a port! A real small one frequented by smugglers, full of the sorts your granddad would call "unsavory."

But right, back to the point (the point being the talking cat you'd found). You'd been caught completely by surprise by it, but luckily you always keep a spell or two ready just for moments like this (moments where you need to rescue an animal, not for detaining talking ones okay? You're not crazy; nobody just expects to run into talking animals). And well, after you'd summoned an animal crate, it was just a matter of having Bec chase the thing into it!

And boy was it unhappy about that. Like, having cursed for a solid five minutes already and not showing signs of slowing down any time soon. But at least from listening to the incessant river of swears and general curses thrown upon you and your familial relations (nothing serious, you don't detect an inkling of magical might behind it, they're just words), you'd garnered some very interesting facts.

Like the fact that Mister Grey Tabby was apparently human before running afoul of another witch! From his…colorful description, you bet that it was Rose Lalonde. Her familiar was a cat similar to Bec, and she had a fondness for cats that rivaled your fondness for Bec! So yeah, with his personality? Rose probably though she was doing him a favor.

Wow, he just was not stopping was he? "Okay, now I understand where you're coming from. If someone changed me into a dog or something I can understand being a little upset." Well…not really, being a dog sounds really awesome! But clearly Tabby wasn't ready for that piece of wisdom, and you'd just gotten him to stop yelling.

"A LITTLE?" he mewled, and there he goes again. You know, you are really sure that he just needs a true love's kiss (Rose had an ironic appreciation for old school spells like that, probably a side effect of having a bard for a half-brother), but he just wouldn't settle back down to hear it. Tempting as it was to see if your kiss would break the spell, you're literally 100% positive that his particular bundle of crazy was not enticing enough to invite it in a more human form.


	7. GamzeeKarkat Br1

**human!Gamzee & human!Karkat: Remember when Karkat found out Gamzee sincerely believed Karkat was going to go to Hell when he died?**

* * *

Your name is Karkat Vantas; you are seventeen years old, and proudly bisexual. Your best friend is Kanaya Maryam, and besides being Muslim, she is openly lesbian. Terezi, your good friend and sometimes datemate, is asexual and gender fluid. Your friend group is very diverse, racially and with respect to gender and sexual orientation. This is something you're very proud of.

Of course, there's always the one stick in the mud in every group, and for you and yours it is your friend Gamzee Makara. A born again Christian, newly sobered off of every known narcotic easily gotten by a lazy, underachieving, sheltered, rich white boy.

This is of course, a problem. Because the first thing that Gamzee wanted to do was drag…all of you (Maryam included, for some reason) to his fancy as fuck church out in the suburbs of the city. You are the only one who goes, because Terezi swears up down and sideways that stepping inside a church gives them actual burns (the fucking liar, they just never liked Gamzee in the first place, but whatever, you won't force them), and Kanaya is fucking Muslim.

She probably would have gone out of politeness, but you nixed that after doing some scoping out of the church itself. Apparently a good demographic of the congregation is old, conservative Republicans, and as a good friend you can't let her go into that particular shark tank. Who knows what idiocy they'll yell at her (and you can't be blamed for what her Jewish girlfriend, Rose, will do if she catches wind of that potential fiasco), in the midst of their self-righteous speech-ing.

So yeah, you're the only one that goes to the estúpido iglesia with Gamzee, and you lay covers for the others since they couldn't come. ("Nah, Kanaya couldn't come, she had to go to her mosque today, you knew this man. And Terezi's mom makes them go to the Methodist church downtown, don't tell me you forgot?" Not to mention that no, Terezi doesn't go to church, they're the vaguely agnostic partner to your closeted atheist.)

And the sermon drags on forever. It's about "taking responsibility" and other common sense hogwash that you always wondered why they bothered preaching about. So you keep a grumbling commentary in Spanish up, which you explain away to an irked Gamzee as a Catholic Hail Mary (something you think you remember from when you were like five as being fuck all long).

But then, at about the hour and a half mark, the pastor dismisses you. Thank God, you think with an inward chuckle, because that was horrible. "So how'd you like it?" Gamzee drawls, as you both amble towards the parking lot. And well fuck, you don't want to lie to him, but…

"Well it was kind of bullshit Gamzee." You say, all to aware that you're treading a dangerous line. "I mean, I don't even believe in god." A—nd you just fucking crossed it, you can see it in the angry slant of his eyebrows. "I mean, I'm flattered you invited me man, but it's just not my thing."

"Karkat," Gamzee warns, "Brother, I don't want to get all up on you like disease on a dead thing, but bro. You're gonna go to hell if you don't get your brain all wrapped up in Jesus!" And after that it's all over.

Your screaming match lasts hours, and by the time you finish, you've been condemned to walking the thirty miles back to your own district of the city. You wonder briefly if Rose might be willing to come pick you up…


	8. FefetaspriteRoxy

**Roxy(diamonds)Fefeta: Remember when Fefeta tried to make Roxy feel better about her feelings with Dirk by talking about her boy problems?**

* * *

Jane had been inconsolable, after her chat with Jake. The birthday party she and Fefeta had spent so much time on had been ruined, and Jane had run off. And Roxy pillowed her head on her arms and wondered what she'd done wrong, what she could have done better. Why was growing up so hard?

Fefeta purred, wrapping her pink sprite's arms around Roxy in a comforting gesture. "It'll be alright," she said in a bubbly voice, even as she rested her chin on Roxy's hair. She threaded her claws through Roxy's hair at the back of her head, close enough to the scalp that Roxy shivered from the sensation. It felt an awful lot like a scalp massage, to her.

"What do I do, Fefeta?" Roxy asked, leaning into her game-sprite. So much seemed to have been going wrong these last few days. First Jake and Dirk had been almost disgustingly wrapped up in each other, Jane had been having issues she just didn't want to talk about, and well to be honest…Roxy was getting tired of trying to pull them all together. "It seems like everything is falling apart."

Fefeta made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, and shifted behind Roxy so that her tail curled up beneath her. Resting her insubstantial weight on Roxy's shoulders, Fefeta sighed. "Well," she said, "When we were alive, things went…bad." She'd never shared this, always skipping over how they had died, but with the way Roxy was feeling…Maybe knowing how much better off her session was than Fefeta's would put her at ease.

"Our moirails weren't bad people, they just made bad decisions, you see? Equi-hiss, he went to confront our friend Gamzee, who'd gone a little crazy." Fefeta explained, making sure never to focus too long on their more murderous comrades. They covered all of their boys, mentioning how hard it was for Karkat to lead them (how hard it was to love him, which they knew Roxy would identify with due to her own flushed issues), how sometimes Eridan was too much work to even bother with most days (trying to correlate that to Roxy's own issues with Jake). And just to round things out, they brought in Vriska and Terezi's own issues (because they knew that Roxy might find solace in the fact that even best friends could fight). "Sollux…We don't even know if he made it out okay." Fefeta said, ending her story.

"Does that make you feel better?" Fefeta asked, smoothing down the braids she'd ended up putting into Roxy's short hair. Roxy just twitched, having fallen asleep sometime after Fefeta had begun her tale. Chuckling, Fefeta floated off to grab a blanket, there was no use to letting Roxy catch a chill!


	9. EridanKarkat Br1

**Eridan/Karkat: Remember when Eridan found out about Karkat's blood color and nearly culled him, and then afterwards ignored/avoided Karkat for nearly a perigee before finally accepting it.**

* * *

It was the sort of thing he'd been hatched for, culling the horrifyingly mutant. He'd been waiting for this day, hoping beyond hope that he would get this chance to uphold the empire he loved. Except instead of some winged low-blooded freak, or some three-eyed mid-blood kneeling in front of him bleeding their life out, it was Karkat.

His _friend_, his stupid friend with blood brighter than rubies, that apparently forgot not to fucking bleed in front of him.

"Cod-dammit Kar!" Eridan swore, bringing Ahab's Crosshairs to bear. All it would take was a twitch of his finger. All he had to do was slip, and a horrible mutant would be wiped off the face of the planet. That would be that. He might have daymares about it for perigrees of course, but he'd be a hero.

God, what a nightmare! What sort of fucked up hero kills his friends? (The kind that understands what to do for the greater good, a dark whisper in his mind soothes.) God, he couldn't do this, but he had to.

Eridan places the barrel against Karkat's forehead, and the moron looks straight at him with bright red irises. God dammit, Eridan thinks, because for this moron to come outside with _eyes like that_. He was begging to be culled.

The seadweller swears again and stomps backward until Karkat looks more like a black and grey lump than someone he knows, then re-aims at his – at Karkat's bloodpusher. And he doesn't notice that his barrel is shaking, because his eyes won't focus. So he throws Ahab's Crosshairs away, suddenly disgusted with himself.

"Get the fuck away from me, Kar." Eridan snarls, kicking at the dirt as he turns away, "Just get the fuck out of here." He hears scrambling behind him, and methodical thumps as Karkat runs. And the violet-blood stares up into the night sky with a mind blank, too full of anger and shame and regret to bother thinking about anything.

He cuts Karkat out of his life. He blocks him on Trollian, throws out his past wiggling day presents, locks Ahab away (the gun is a reminder now, too). And he still can't forget the look of shame and fear Karkat had on his face when he pushed the gun into the guy's forehead. And he's angry about it, so angry.

How dare he. How could Karkat do this to him!

There are a lot of dead lusus that get fed to Feferi's those next few weeks. He won't talk to anyone about it, because every time he thinks about going to his husktop he wonders if Karkat made it out okay. Wonders if he's been culled yet. Wonders, and wonders…so he avoids the thing completely, just to avoid the temptation to check.

He breaks his self-imposed isolation first. Thinks hard for a moment before logging in to Trollian. He types, "Kan, you heard from Kar?" He's flooded with foreboding immediately, but the little ellipses indicating typing keeps him from slamming the computer shut.

"Yes Actually, He's Fine Thank You." Kanaya replies, her prim typing style leaving most of the details he wanted out. He knows if he wants to know if the stupid landdweller is _really_ okay, he'll have to troll Karkat himself. But Kanaya's words put him at ease.

He's not fucking dead, at least.

So he sucks it up, because he's royalty.

"Kar, you still alivve?"


	10. EridanKarkat2 Br1

**Eridan(diamonds)Karkat: Remember when Eridan had a godawful daymare about snapping and murdering everyone, and he went to find Karkat to reassure him that it wouldn't happen?**

* * *

The pounding on his hive door roused him in the roughest, quickest way possible. Catapulting himself out of his recuperacoon was instinct, the battle roll away from entry points and reflexive one-two motion to grab his sickle and fall into a defensive posture was the work of a half-asleep self-preservation effort. Blood-pusher hammering, Karkat dripped sopor slime onto his floor as he waited.

They'd finally come for him hadn't they, a not-quite-conscious part of his mind screeched. He was going to be culled; there was nothing for it! But why? He'd been so careful, no one knew! Only some Carapacian called Jack – oh.

God. He wasn't back on Alternia, it was just LoPaH. There wasn't anything to fear here except the red rivers that cut through his land itself. But still, if it wasn't the drones or Jack at his door, exiled as the former Dersite was, that didn't leave very many possibilities.

So, after brushing off as much remaining sopor as possible (he would still look very messy, but hey, he did what he could), Karkat dropped the sickle to the floor and made his way to his door. Without a peephole, the best he could do was to crack the thing open just enough see through, and boy was he met with a surprise.

"Eridan?" Karkat croaked, surprised and tired and angry all at once. God, it was maybe two in the afternoon? Eridan, of all people, had interrupted him from the best sleep he'd gotten in weeks? And here he was thinking that highbloods had some notion of manners or something.

"Kar…can I come in? I don't knoww wwho else to talk to." He said in a quiet tone. Man the guy looked pathetic, hair all limp and messy, cloak missing, pupils blown to hell and back with barely controlled fear. Hell, there were even traces of sopor slime on his shoulders! And shit, but Karkat was pretty sure there was a waver in the seadweller's voice that wasn't his shitty lowland coastal accent at play.

God, he couldn't even be mad at the bastard. "Get in here you blubbering goddamn pansy, before you start leaking on the welcome mat." Karkat muttered, throwing the door open before stalking away to get some pillows. "Is this gonna need a pile, or what?"

And fuck him, but didn't Eridan's eyes just light up at that? Why was he always so fucking pale for psychopaths? "Kar, you'd do that fer me?" And with that soft declaration, Karkat scurried away to hide his figurative pale hard-on in literal handfuls of blankets and pillows.

"Now, what the hell was that god-awful sleep-ruining display about?" Karkat growled, more set on maintaining at least the appearance of not being head over heels pale for a fishy bastard than really selling his apathy. Because he did care, you could scour his soul to the core and read the writing on its walls to prove it, for the genocidal fuckhead.

At least this one wanted to be saved…well, apparently wanted to be saved.

"It wwas awwful, Kar. It wwas just this horrible daymare, or somefin." Eridan said, words spilling out like water. Oh god he was even thinking in fish puns. "I just snapped. You knoww howw Fef hasn't…she hasn talked to me since wwe entered the medium. I just, I wwanted her to be red for me so bad, and for so long…wwhen she wwouldn't talk to me, give me a chance. There wasn't anythin left either, wwe wwere all gonna die anywway…"

God, Karkat knew where this was going. And he couldn't stop listening either.

"So I shot 'er." Eridan said, hands shaking in his lap, "I wwas gonna kill evveryone, Kar." And the seadweller squirmed deeper into the pile, nearly obscured by all the pillows in Karkat's house. "But…But Kan…Kan stopped me?"

Karkat couldn't say anything, just kept his gaze pinned to where Eridan's would be, if the fucker would look at him.

"Kan stopped me." He said firmly, then after a long pause, "I'm sorry Kar, I woke you up for nothing."

And Eridan looked up, locked eyes with his mutant-blooded friend. It was the most horrifying moment, when what Karkat had suspected bled into truth. White seeped across Eridan's dark irises, giving him an eerie look.

Purple blood seeped into Eridan's shirt around his navel, and the aquatic troll grimaced at it. Standing, Eridan turned to leave, "Sorry Kar. Go back to bed. I won't bother you again."

Karkat watched him go, cloak shimmering into existence as the deceased troll pulled it from his sylladex. Turning over in his ramshackle pile, Karkat tried to remember if he'd ever felt this pale for Eridan when they both were alive.

He couldn't remember when he'd started feeling this way, to be completely, terrifyingly honest. He just hoped that the ache in his chest of unrequited pale feelings would ease once he was awake and back on the meteor.


	11. EridanSignless Br1

**Signless(diamonds)Eridan: Remember when Eridan was wandering through the dreambubbles feeling like a miserable wreck when he staggered right into the last troll he expected to give a damn? Remember how Signless laughed even as he helped Eridan pull himself back together?**

* * *

He wasn't sure where he was exactly. The land was bright, brown, and rocky. In all of his seven-ish sweeps he'd never seen anything like it (except, _maybe_ Tavros' planet…but then again that place was all sand). Some of the rock formations had caves that wind and water had carved into them, and to be completely honest being dead in a place like this was tiring.

So he tucked himself into the darkest corner of the cave and finally let his thoughts run wild.

He'd killed her, and that asshole Sol, and Kan. He hadn't found any of them in the bubbles, which really only meant that the guilt and anger had time to percolate in him. Outside of the meteor, with a more…broad perspective granted by the dream bubbles, he'd come to realize just how big a tantrum he'd had and just how irrationally angry he was at everyone.

And really, he was just getting angry about being angry at this point. He wished he could talk to Fef, wished he could talk to anyone really. He wouldn't say he was desperate to get into a pile with just anyone (never in his life…or un-life as circumstances would have it, would he crawl into a pile with Vriska or Sollux! And maybe not even a couple other trolls, he had _standards_, okay?), but really…at this point he'd consider jamming with quite a few people he'd never considered before.

God, he needed a pap right now. But all he had was this dark fucking cave, and his cape (thank all the higher powers for that small miracle, he could pretend he wasn't in a cave when the purple cloth was draped over his face). Rolling onto his side, back facing the cave entrance, he cocooned himself in his high collared cape.

Just because he was dead didn't mean he couldn't try to sleep. He might be boiling with anger and guilt and other unsavory emotions, but without a moirail or a pile the only thing to be done was to try to bottle it up. At least…out here, if he couldn't keep it to himself, there wasn't too much to damage in a fit of pique.

The state he fell into couldn't have been called sleep, but it was close enough that it really didn't matter. His guard was down, his mind lulled into something akin to deep sleep. And the scuffing of booted feet on sandstone didn't shake him at all.

"Child," chuckled a rough voice, "You are far from the memories of you and yours." The following silence, as the intruder waited for the adolescent ghost to "wake," was unbroken by the thoroughly out-of-it violet-blood. With an amused chuckle, he gracefully folded himself into a sitting position.

Even in his sleep, Eridan snarled and lashed out. All that bottled up rage, despair, shame…all of those negative emotions gave him a restlessness that translated well into physical movement. And the Signless, with all of his sweeps of experience with the pitiable and the detestable (and those who were a combination of both), chuckled forgivingly and gently patted the cheek of his young companion.

"There, there. Sleep. We will work out what to do about all of this rage when you wake." The pap's effect went into place almost immediately, Eridan's limbs stilled, and though he sprawled across the floor his expression was one of something approaching peace.

The Signless sighed, gazing outward past his feet to the blazingly bright skyline outside of the cave even as he rubbed soothing circles on the back of Eridan's hand. The tips of his boots faded to translucence, and a flash of anger brought a spark of life to his red eyes. Even the ghosts of ghosts had a place here, it seemed.

And though he didn't notice, a small, happy smile flitted across Eridan's face even as the Signless' outline solidified again.


	12. EquiusVriska Br1

**Equius(spades)Vriska: Remember when we found out that Equius could take control of Vriska's robotic arm?**

* * *

Vriska had been surprised when her arm had refused to respond to her will. She'd been even more surprised when it simply…popped off during a FLARP campaign. Then she'd stood in shock and experienced more than a little anger when it stood up on its fingers and scurried off _into the ocean_.

This was not what she had been promised, when she'd accepted Equius' gross, sweaty offer of help. Gritting her teeth in her fury, she vowed to get to the bottom of it. But first, time to manipulate that stupid fishy kismesis of hers into getting her fucking arm back.

At the same time, Equius leaned back into his chair and smiled. A screen filled with statistics and readouts was keeping him apprised of the situation out at sea, and no small amount of pleasure filled him at what he was seeing. It hadn't been too difficult to program into the robotic arm a certain degree of remote control; in fact the hardest thing had been keeping his mouth shut about it. He's almost certain that if Nepeta had known, she would have disagreed.

The girl had quite an issue with the pitch quadrants.

But truly, this was one of his finer plans. Vriska would feel like there was something very, catastrophically wrong with his gift, and would come to him angry and ripe for the romancing. And then, he would make a show of inspecting it, tweaking it, and then reattach it. "It seems to have been a virus in the software," he would say to her questioning. And then he would use the arm against her.

Maybe pin her against the wall, and have the arm anchor itself into the bedrock foundation. And then he'd kiss –

There was angry pounding on his hive door. Suddenly flustered and in need of a towel, Equius shut off the monitor. "Coming," he announced, internally running through his well-rehearsed dialogue. Vriska was shouting something on the other side of his door, and his heart pounded in return. Goodness, he'd need more than one towel before this was all done!

Cracking the door open, Equius was surprised by how scraped up Vriska looked. "Is everything al-" he began, only to be cut off by Vriska pushing past him.

"No!" Vriska groused, "Nothing is alright! Have you seen this?" and she stopped to thrust her stump arm into his face. "Your damned arm _fell off_, and did an _acrobatic fucking pirouette_ into the thrice damned _ocean_! What the hell, Equius?"

And…curses, he needed a towel. Why was her language so crude? "Let me take an look at it." He insisted, directing her into his workroom. "Where is it, anyway?"

"The 8ottom of the damned ocean, you pan-addled wiggler!" She snarled, and oh yes. He did make it do that. Well, this wasn't panning out like he planned at all. But he couldn't just leave her armless like this, if someone killed his kismesis-to-be he would be very upset.

"I think I have a prototype you can use while I work up another arm. It won't be as dexterous as the one that you um…lost, but it will give you back your mobility." He announced, standing up. The only issue with that was of course the prototype wasn't controllable.

He'd have to put off his black romancing until later then. But first, a towel, he'd need one to get through sitting in such close proximity to such a hateful creature.


	13. DaveJane Br1

**Jane/Dave: Remember when Jane was a field nurse, and Dave almost became an early casualty of war?**

* * *

She'd always thought her life in the nurse corps would be more like the one showed in _South Pacific_. She'd thought it would be fun to hang out with her fellow nurses, worrying about mildly unwanted advances from flirtatious officers and which soldier in the clinic was the cutest. Needless to say, it wasn't really that simple.

Three months after signing on for a short contract with the army, the United States of America went to war. The only blessing was that, for her, it didn't start out too bad. Basic training was hell, but with the company of sharpshooter Roxy Lalonde (an officer at base camp), it really wasn't so bad. In fact, before basic was over, she and Rox were the best of friends.

Roxy was sent overseas once training was through, her own take on a CO's gruffness landing her a position leading her own platoon. Jane wasn't deployed right away, instead being shuttled off to spend six months at a base near Killeen, Texas. There she fell in with Dirk Strider, a bomb specialist from Austin. It was truly unfortunate that Dirk was so dead set on wooing Jake English, a half Filipino from American Samoa, because her fellow nurse was very aromantic and socially awkward.

Between the troublesome threesome of Jake, Dirk, and herself, the six months in Killeen weren't nearly so bad. But her stay at the fort was over almost too quickly for Jane's tastes, and she soon found herself shipped off to a dusty base in the Middle East. Without the steady company of her newfound friends, Jane was very lonely.

Her days consisted of her duties in the critical ward, never the pleasantest of tasks, and whatever letters she received. Her letters from her cousin John revealed much. The young Egbert had just turned eighteen, and he along with three of his friends had enlisted. He mentioned his friend Rose, who had joined the nurses' corps along with another of his friends. He also mentioned his friend Jade Harley, who had managed to get herself into the marines.

John himself expected to remain just a normal soldier, which was severely worrying to his overprotective cousin. But because it was all in the past, Jane just urged John and his friends to be careful. And the long weeks trudged on.

It wasn't until nearly the end of her first tour that Jane had a horrifying scare. One of her coworkers, a strange girl named Aradia, very kindly informed her that members of her cousin's platoon had been medevac'd to the critical ward. She rushed, arriving nearly two hours early to her shift (she didn't care).

She searched through every file, but no John Egbert, the only name she recognized was one David Strider. Heart pounding, Jane barreled through the different beds before coming to a stop before the right one. Dave was conscious, but considering the state of his legs and his well…stump of an arm, he probably wished he wasn't.

"Dave?" Jane whispered, because God, all of a sudden her heart was in her throat. Christ, he looked so much like Dirk. The younger Strider's eyes flicked towards her, and she flushed when his eyes roamed downwards.

"Hey pretty mama, want me to whisper in your ear?" He rasped, winking raunchily for effect. Clearly, the pain from his shattered tibias and amputated right arm were being properly treated by whichever pain meds were being fed into his IV. Which was good, even if it meant putting up with his admittedly charming drugged flirtations.

"You were in John's platoon. John Egbert. Do you know…what happened to him?" she asked, suddenly certain she didn't want to know.

He didn't answer for a moment, just stayed silent while his eyes flickered closed. "He made it. Made damn sure of it too. Too bad the bomb that nearly got him, got me right?" Dave said, but then he laughed. "Better me than him, anyway. John's too good for this war.

"He's a goddamned hero, lady, don't let anyone tell you different." Dave demanded. Out of her mind with relief, Jane sunk down onto the hard plastic chair beside Dave's hospital bed. She held Dave's hand until he slipped into unconsciousness, and stroked the back of it with her thumb for a long while after.


	14. BroRose Br1

**Bro/Rose: Remember that time Bro and Rose constructed a giant tentacled smuppet which began cropping up in family holiday photos?**

* * *

Dave was mortified that first Christmas when the Striders joined up with the Lalondes, because Bro insisted on bringing Cal and twelve near-finished smuppets. Well, mostly because of that. The other source of mortification had been Rose's fascination with the porn puppets.

He'd spent the holiday with his chin tucked into his hoodie, hiding his expressions of distaste in the swathes of cloth. Rose on the other hand, had spent her winter break colluding with Bro in a disturbingly excited manner. The both of them had disappeared sometime after dinner on the 23rd, and neither had reappeared until Christmas day to open presents.

With a friend…a stuffed friend. An eight-foot tall, _knitted,_ stuffed friend with a smuppet's proboscis and an eldritch abomination's tentacles. And this Lovecraftian horrorterror boasted a nametag that read, in Bro's chicken scratch, Othuum Strilonde. Rose's mom had been so pleased with her daughter's nightmare creation that she'd proudly placed the thing at a place of honor at the dinner table.

He'd hardly been able to stomach the meatloaf, as he'd spent the entire meal seated across from a creature that seemed to have been culled from his deepest, darkest nightmares. Mom Lalonde had seemed upset by his lack of appetite, whereas Rose had exuded smug practically the entire grating hour spent seated at the table.

Bro had, before dinner but after all presents had been opened, bequeathed unto the monstrosity a pair of Kamina shades. And well, when Mom Lalonde had insisted that pictures be taken, "_Family _pictures, Dirk, we're taking family pictures," Rose, the only person with sustained issues with taking pictures, had swiftly capitulated when Othuum had been invited to join in.

And then Rose had seated her crafted calamity next to him, draped the yarn tentacles around his shoulder, and angled it so that the stiff dick-nose pushed uncomfortably into his cheekbone. "Okay, stay like that." She'd declared, before primly seating herself next to Bro and Mom-londe.

When the film had been developed, they'd all seen how nicely the photo had turned out. So Rose sent John and Jade a copy apiece. Complete with a letter on the updated conditions of little Othuum Strilonde.

And Dave slowly, over the course of around four different Strider-Lalonde gatherings, came to realize that the yarn Satan's spawn was going to be a long-term fixture in his future. Because if Bro wasn't insisting (ironically) that Othuum be included in their July 4th Barbeque Extravaganza Fuck-Tastic Annual Photo For Familial Pride, Rose dragged the thing into the frame of their Easter day pre-egg hunt photo.

After that, what choice did he have but to surrender (with as much grace as his tattered pride would allow) to the presence of the newest, most disturbing member of his family?


	15. BroDave Br1

**Bro/Dave: Remember the Alamo? (...or at least the Striders' reenactment?)**

* * *

The morning of the twenty third of February hadn't even dawned properly before Dirk "Bro" Strider was up and _planning_. Sure, it was a gloriously unfortunate school day for his brother, but what was a thing like institutionalized shitty education to Bro? He would provide plenty of education this day, one way or the other.

He'd been preparing for this day for weeks. Months, really. Since last year if he'd be truly honest, but that was a secret between him and Li'l Cal and never to be mentioned where Dave might hear. In his younger brother's eyes, Bro Strider was calm, cool, collected, weird as fuck, and always bizarrely, casually prepared for the most drawn out, complicated things.

By the time the sun had peaked over the hazy horizon, lighting Houston's skyscrapers a soft orange and red, Bro had finished the last of his constructions. Now to place the players. It took him about five minutes to put the bizarrely dressed smuppets into their rehearsed places, and only twenty seconds to place the final speaker into it's hidden spot in Dave's room.

Until show time, it was merely a waiting game.

Dave didn't wake up until six thirty a.m. sharp, but by then it was too late. The disembodied voice of his bro echoed through the room, the reverb horrendously tacky. "In the early hours of the morning on this day, civilians fled before the Mexican Army. The men stationed at the Alamo posted a watch, to keep eyes out for the forces of General Santa Anna as they hastily tried to prepare for a siege."

Dave groaned, as the echoes slowly died away, "Not this shit." He should have known. Bro always did _something_ for the Alamo. Not a year went by that there wasn't some stupid celebration to remember the death of a couple hundred dumb, old, and long dead mostly white guys. He didn't want jack-shit to do with this today. He had a math exam in school today that he had to take. A chair test in band he was going to fail, because he'd been too busy making sick beats on his turntables to practice his stupid flute.

Why did Bro have to be so infuriating?

When he ventured into the kitchen to, hopefully, pour himself an unhealthily large bowl of disgustingly sugary cereal, Bro's voice cut through the silence again. Only this time it was clearly coming from _inside his favorite cereal's box_.

"By afternoon the great town that would become San Antonio was completely occupied by the Mexican Army. Dave, in this situation, you will be representing the forces of the Alamo: Davie Crockett, Bowie, Travis and the others. I, and a few others will be proportionally representing Santa Anna and his own army.

"I hope you are fully prepared for this beat down, little bro." He said, voice cutting out. Swearing, Dave darted into the little living room, only to catch an eyeful of literally hundreds of smuppets (in highly accurate, crazy detailed period dress) lined up in military squadrons.

And there was, just big enough to obscure the first few rows, a perfectly miniscule model of the Alamo, walls and all, stationed squarely in front of the kitchen. It was literally to scale, down to the little paved gardens he remembered from last summer's trip.

"Shit." Dave muttered, as the first wave of smuppets started their synchronized attempts up little Lego siege ladders to whispered cries of 'Viva, Santa Anna!'

But he moved to defend the pint-sized Alamo anyway. He pushed the little Lego ladders off his white Lego walls, and scoured the veritable sea of smuppets for gold epaulets. Ah, there!

Li'l Cal sat smugly atop the bookcase, dressed smartly in the most accurate copy of Santa Anna's military uniform this side of a million dollar movie budget. Dave squinted at the gross puppet from behind his rounded shades, and quipped, "Is that Santa Anna?"

Li'l Cal nodded, the after-shadow of Bro's guiding hands just barely visible, wide blue eyes unblinkingly manic.

"I thought he would be taller."


	16. NepetaSollux Br1

**Nepeta(spades)Sollux: Remember when Nepeta started cat napping in awkward places around the meteor, strictly to antagonize Sollux? Like on the computer cords (which invariably unplugged them) and across his keyboard?**

* * *

Nepeta loved curling up on the large expanse that was the computer panel. She liked it up there for several reasons, the least of which not being how deliciously, deliriously warm and cozy the panels got. So, as a matter of course, many nights on the meteor found her wrapped up in her jacket, snoozing happily on the warm, humming machines.

So of course, because he hated fun things, most of those nights Nepeta also found herself rudely awakened by Sollux's telekinetic abilities literally tipping her off of her comfortable perch. And inevitably, due to this very uncouth behavior, Nepeta would find herself in nightly screaming matches with moody Sollux Captor.

"Gods damn it, Nepeta!" Sollux would lisp, "You can't fucking sleep on the panels!" And accompanied by literally sparking eyes and glowing hands, coupled with his fanged snarl, Sollux painted a very angry picture.

"I can do whatefur I want, Catpurr!" Nepeta would hiss back, hands fisted at her hips and her head thrown back in defiance. Then, as though an afterthought, she would bare her own teeth in response.

This of course would only escalate things, to the point where Kanaya literally had called a meeting with the other trolls on the meteor, on the subject of perhaps auspisticing their clearly caliginous overtures. Eridan had been all for that, though he had opted out of being the auspice himself (clearly he was too invested in the caliginous quadrants of Mr. Captor already, already having started trying insinuate himself into the yellow-blood's pitch affections).

Karkat had literally said, "I don't give a fuck, if they want to hate-snog all over the damn meteor then let them. As long as nobody dies, I literally could not give a single fuck."

Equius had been well…he'd needed several towels to get through the meeting, though Feferi had seemed excited by her moirail's black prospects. Neither of the two were putting up any serious complaints whatsoever, Mr. Zahhak's stammered, weak protests aside. So, with three abstaining votes joining Karkat in the forms of Terezi, Vriska, and Gamzee (neither of the former, after hearing of the topic of the meeting, could be bothered to come, while the latter had not been found in time to inform of the meeting), that meant that Feferi was the only really excited party on behalf of this particular match.

Eridan, on the other side of the coin, was the only vehemently opposed. So Kanaya, who had merely been concerned, and Equius (who was notoriously overprotective of his moirail) decided to just let it play out.

As Terezi was rather surprised and mildly disgusted to sniff out later, most of those late-night screaming matches had already devolved into sloppy hateful make-outs. Everyone who had attended Kanaya's meeting felt a little embarrassed, but that feeling passed. Eridan's scorned feelings on the other hand, did not.

The next week found Nepeta dead and Sollux half-dead, as Eridan and Gamzee both went on a crazy rampage.


	17. AraneaMeenah Br1

**Meenah(hearts)Aranea: Remember when Aranea kissed Meenah back to life so she could go god tier?**

* * *

It was sort of like being up close and personal with a supernova. Or at least, what she imagined that might feel like (you know, if it weren't immediately deadly and in all likelihood very painful). The light was brilliant and it blinded her, the beams of light coming off the towers around the recuperacoon shooting up through the planet's atmosphere and onwards.

High above (not that she could see it, dazzled as she was) the symbol of the life aspect sparkled into appearance. As soon as she regained her sight, though her vision was still spotted, she scowled to see the life symbol. How ironic, that it would appear above her very dead friend's corpse. And this date had been going so well, too.

It had seemed like a good idea, joining her flushed crush on her planet to complete some quests. Meenah of course had rocketed through her levels long ago, and already rested at the pinnacle of her class. Aranea on the other hand, to be kind, had not done nearly as much leveling and was still what Latula gleefully would call: 4 n00b.

Which really, did nothing to suggest that what they were doing was going to be dangerous. After all, with such a high tier player focused on helping such a low tiered one, the monsters they should have been encountering would have been a cakewalk for the duo. Except of course for the heiress' ego.

There was no way Meenah was going to let herself be bored doing something as enriching as (essentially) mining for grist. So in an attempt to catapult her (endearingly) deadweight potential "gillfrond" quicker to at least the upper fourth of her own level ladder Meenah started them out on harder enemies, and things quickly escalated to battles that could have killed Aranea in one hit.

Luckily for her, of course, Meenah was very sure that none of the enemies ever got too close to her vulnerable Serket. The only problem with that was of course that essentially, for Meenah, there was no backup if things went badly. And of course, things went badly.

It didn't look like it was going to end badly at first, and that's why they didn't abscond. At first it was just three large brawler type monsters, and Meenah had no trouble distracting them while Aranea dealt pitiful damage to one. Until their friend, who was what Latula might've called a dungeon boss, showed up to cause trouble. As Meenah found out, it's a lot harder to defend the defenseless when four strong monsters are all individually going for your head.

So she'd gotten speared through the stomach, but not before managing to mortally wound the last one. As she'd fallen to the ground, limp and chuckling weakly, the behemoth collapsed to its knees as it's blood spurted. Within a second it dissolved into grist.

Running forward, Aranea kneeled next to her friend, "M88n8h!" Distraught, she tucked the princess' head into her lap, trying not to sob. "8 j8st h8ve to…k8ss y8u, r8ght?" And with tears streaming down her face, she touched her lips to Meenah's.

"Shell, Serket. Not shore that'll work." Meenah gasped, after Aranea straightened up, "Get me to my quest 'coon." Aranea had hurried, but Meenah had arched her back in her death throes almost as soon as she'd been laid down into the sopor slime. She'd died, and she'd not had any contact from Meenah's dream-self.

And now, after all her work and this forsaken lightshow, her friend was still dead. Her heart was broken, and it was mostly her own fault. If she'd just…taken the game a little more seriously! Her tears came hard and fast.

"S—ERKET!" Came Meenah's screech, "GU—ESS WHO CAME BACK TO LIFE, BUT LIKE A MILLION TIME MORAY AWESOME!"


	18. EridanFeferi Br2

**Feferi(diamonds)Eridan: Desvelado: "tired, but specifically from having been kept awake or kept from sleeping well the prior night."**

* * *

"FF, you're not looking so good," Sollux comments, the day she saves him from dying (or well, saves him from dying permanently). He's still in those purple Dersite pajamas, though he seems disgusted with them and has already mused aloud about finding some of his spare clothes.

"It's nothing," the heiress says, wiping the blood and honey mixture from her lips. It isn't "nothing", but it is something she should save for her moirail. Or at least, it was something she should've saved for her moirail, if she still had one. Unknown to anyone, she dumped Eridan last night.

"You sure, FF?" Sollux coaxed, and God, but were those solidly pale vibes she was getting from him? No, she couldn't take that this soon after her break up.

"Yes, I'm sure!" She snapped, picking her double-ended trident up from where she dropped it earlier. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my planet." Without waiting she made her way swiftly through the gate she entered through, and dove into the glass bowl housing her hive.

Safely ensconced in her bedroom, she let her tears mingle with the water she breathed in. It wasn't fair, that her heart hurt this much! She'd been up all night watching the messages stream in from Eridan after she'd broken the news to him. They'd started out well enough, quickly plunged into the realm of desperation, and sometime after daybreak they'd turned nasty.

It had broken her heart all over again to read those messages, such that even though the messages kept coming in way past sunrise she had swiftly silenced him and begun to message the others about the game they would play.

She still hadn't read those messages that had come through afterward; they sat there in her trollian account with an insistent red flag on them. She thought about them as she cried, knowing they would only spur her into a more emotional crying jag than the one she was already in.

She wouldn't cry because of his words. She wouldn't read whatever horrid words he said to her in the heat of their breakup. It would be unfair to the boy she went pale for, all those sweeps ago. The one she believed was still in there somewhere, buried underneath the boy that had been twisted by the hemospectrum.

She was so tired, what she wouldn't give to sleep and wake up without any of these problems, these issues. She was so tired.


	19. SuffererSummoner Br2

**Sufferer(diamonds)Disciple or Summoner: _Maya_ (Sanskrit). It refers to belief — the often unfortunate belief — that the symbol of a thing is the same as the thing itself. It's the, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe," of the literary world.**

* * *

The Summoner sits cross-legged in a pile on the floor of his tent, cradling a worn book close. He speaks softly to it, like he might to a frightened or wounded animal, and caresses the ancient pages. Mindfang watches him from the entranceway, rolls her eyes and coughs loudly, "Oh, Lover boy?" But nothing, Summoner continues reverently turning the pages of the tome.

Sighing, Mindfang crosses over to him and pulls sharply at his wings. "Lover boy, speech in ten." He yelps at the rude interruption, and levels a glare at her that's rather weakened by the sudden warmth behind it. She smirks at him before leaving, tent flaps swinging shut with finality behind her. He follows slowly, placing the book back onto the pile, and prepares himself for his own sermon.

The Summoner addresses the gathered cavalreapers and rebels with familiarity. They've fought together, gained scars together. They all live the word of the Sufferer together. He's been speaking for twenty minutes when he finally hits his stride. "This is not an item of justice!" he yells, voice hoarse but echoing across the crowd clearly. In his hand, dangling from an iron chain, is a replica of the shackles that held the Sufferer to the whipping block. His wings flutter restlessly in his rage, and his eyes burn with the fire of his passion (not that anyone but those closest to him can see it).

"This is the symbol of our savior, of the troll who died for us, who spoke of equality! The one who was forcibly silenced as our predecessors watched on and jeered!"

His borrowed words lend an almost manic urgency to his speech, and he channels the righteous fury that the Sufferer has blessed him with. By the time he's come to the close, the crowd has been whipped into a frenzied passion.

So he snaps the chain holding the shackles aloft, sending it crashing to the floor. "Will we allow this perversion of justice and equality to continue existing unchallenged?" he says, quieter than he's been since almost the beginning of his sermon. But then he roars, "Of course not!" the assembled rebels go wild, screaming with him for blood, for vengeance, for justice and equality. The Summoner crows, "We march at moonrise!"

The screams of his fighters and the pounding of their feet rock the world around them.

He returns to his tent and his book exhausted, but feeling alive. He always feels that way when he finishes a speech. The Sufferer's words are too powerful; they always take something from him. The book warned of it, but it's worth it.

He caresses the book's cover before pulling it in close. Hugging it to his chest, the Summoner hums. "It went well of course, Kankri." He speaks softly, in case Mindfang comes to investigate. She's never understood how powerful the bond of moirailship is that he and the book housing the Sufferer's soul share. "Your words are always powerful."

The book says nothing of course, because it is of course only a book detailing the life and words of the Sufferer, and not the Sufferer's soul trapped on Alternia.


	20. SolluxAradia Br2

**Aradia(hearts)Sollux: Jolie-laide (French)- "ugly-pretty"; a type of beauty who is not conventionally attractive, but has a sort of fascinatingly quirky/ unusual look that makes them even more charismatic**

* * *

Sollux is not what you would consider conventionally attractive. His teeth are misaligned (an overbite that resulted in a word-obscuring lisp), his shoulders are too narrow, he is so thin as to look unhealthy, he has eyes that are an eerie shade of brown so light they are nearly yellow, matted hair that is clearly uncared for, and a tone of skin that spoke volumes about how often he saw the sun (hint: not at all). And his personality, from an entirely non-biased point of view, isn't much better.

So no, you think, your boyfriend is not _conventionally_ attractive.

But the way his lisp softens his words and manually slows him down (he speaks fast and harsh, always so eager to speak his piece and be done, never anything less than blunt) is endearing. You love his voice. It's nasally and low pitched, and often his words come so fast it's like listening to a river burbling along. You could listen to him forever!

Plus the eyelashes that frame his oddly colored eyes are long, lush, and dark. They accentuate them, and you often joke that it makes him look supernatural. Like a mage, or something with an equal amount of magical prowess. (You mentioned that once out loud to him, and he laughed at you for a half hour straight!)

The complaint about the width of his shoulders you aren't even going to talk about (because wow…how rude is that, not to mention almost one thousand times more vain and shallow than the other "detracting features" mentioned). There is literally nothing wrong with Sollux's shoulders.

His weight though, that does concern you. Not for aesthetic reasons, because you rather like your boyfriend's distressed, grunge princess-type look. But you worry about his health. His metabolism is too fast for him to be forgetting meals (and he's always forgetting meals). Luckily he has you to pull him out of whatever funk he's fallen into lately, he'd likely never eat otherwise! He's always been way too invested in those projects of his (he just wasn't taking good care of himself, the dork).

His hair wasn't a large problem; you've already mentioned you rather enjoy the grunge princess aesthetic. And neither is the pallor of his skin! You really are dark enough for the both of you, so whatever and who cares!

About that overbite, aside from its noted and cherished contribution to his stupid, charming lisp, well…Let is be said that, well, it forced him to be an exceedingly _innovative_ kisser. The _things_ Sollux could do with his tongue –

"AA," Sollux deadpans, "You're staring."

"Sorry," you say, not at all sorry. "I love you, Sollux." And you kiss him, because thinking about all of his charms has left you craving his touch.


	21. DiscipleSignless Br2

**Signless(hearts)Disciple: Aware (Japanese) the bittersweet feeling of a brief and fading moment of beauty**

* * *

The sun was blistering hot, but inside the cave it was blissfully cool. They'd been holed up in here for a perigree now, venturing out at night to speak the words to the low-blooded settlements situated around a nearby oasis. Psionic and Dolorosa were ready to move on, but Signless wasn't, he kept saying that there were still more who could be reached.

She didn't care one way or the other though, as long as he was safe and happy she didn't care if they stayed in the same hellish desert cave for the rest of their lives. With Dolorosa taking care of the walking dead that stalked the hot sands when the sun was high, and Psi keeping them guarded with his powers while they ventured into the settlements at night, she wondered if they'd go on like this forever.

Another perigree later, they prepared to pack up and move on. There were troubling rumors of high-blood patrols making their way towards their position, and with the topic of Signless' teachings they would be lucky to escape execution. The little niceties she'd placed around the cave, the pelts and little desert flowers, had to be left behind, and devoid of the bedrolls and other such supplies that they'd be taking with them, her little decorations looked mighty lonely.

She sighed heavily, and told them all goodbye silently. They'd be moving out at moonrise, despite the certain measure of safety that sun-brightened noon gave them. With nothing but hours of waning sunlight in front of them, she and Psi and Signless curled up together as best they could to sleep out the day-terrors.

Signless shook her awake gently, and she opened her eyes to the dark of a cave at dusk. Psi had lit up his own corner of the cave with his powers, helping Rosa don her own load. They couldn't afford to leave anything important.

Once on the trail, she gasped to see the silver reflected light of the moons turning the red sands an ethereal pink. It washed out the harsh colors of the rock formations and smoothed out their edges, leaving the desert she'd previously only known as dry, hot, and deadly as tranquil as that little pond she'd grown up by.

She jogged ahead to catch up to Signless, and nudged him to look. They stood still, just barely touching elbows, and watched in awe as the rising moons and shifting winds made the desert into a dancing wonderland. And for a moment, she remembered their cave with the flowers and this last sight of the desert they'd lived in for near a sweep.

And she cried, olive tinged tears streaming down her face, because they were leaving. They were leaving and there had finally been peace for all four of them. Signless reached for her hand, kissed away a tear or two, and led her on. His red eyes caught the moonlight, and flashed strangely. "Nothing gold can stay, love." He murmured, one last glance at the sight, "Nothing gold can stay."


	22. KanayaKarkat Br2

**Kanaya(diamonds)Karkat: Gokotta (Swedish), to wake up early in the morning to listen to the birds sing**

* * *

Kanaya was up before the sun, as always. Karkat was asleep on the sofa just outside the bedroom, because he'd refused her offer of sharing a bed. They were as good as roommates anyway, there was no reason he couldn't sleep on her bed since there was plenty of room! But anyway, disregarding Karkat's tendency to not stay the night in his very lesbian, best friend's bed, the point of the matter was that it was five in the morning and she was the only moving creature in the apartment.

Her coffee had been ready, as it had been programmed to be (technology was a wonderful thing), at a quarter till five. Quietly, in order to avoid waking her grumpy friend, Kanaya moved into the kitchen to grab her grey mug and migrate towards the porch.

Her foot caught the umbrella stand though on her way out the door, seeing as the caffeine hadn't yet had the chance to kick in. Freezing in a cringe, she listened hard for any sign of Karkat rousing himself. When a minute had gone by, she sighed gratefully to all the powers that had a hand in her almost-brother's ability to remain asleep, and slipped out onto the second floor balcony that doubled as her little porch.

The birds chirped, and the laziness of the Sunday morning was a nice lull to the hectic, constant noise that an awake Karkat normally brought to her life. Not that she was begrudging Karkat his presence, she loved having him around of course, it was just that occasionally she needed a bit of quiet to allow her head to unscramble itself.

Breathing in the morning air, she leaned back into the plastic lawn chair she'd seated herself in. She watched the sun peek over the treetops around six, and heard Karkat inside swearing as he ran into what sounded like the walls. Another fifteen minutes passed before a bleary eyed Karkat shuffled over to the railing.

"Morning, Karkat dear." Kanaya greeted serenely, fingers curled around her mug. She received a moan in return, which was all that could be expected from her normally late-rising companion. "Did you get yourself a cup of coffee?"

In response, Karkat twisted just enough to let a sliver of a bright red mug into her view. He really did abhor mornings, she thought fondly. "Sleep well?" another grunt in response. Oh Karkat, she thought as she beamed at him, never change.


	23. KanayaKarkat2 Br2

**Kanaya(diamonds)Karkat: Otsukare (Japanese) something someone exclaims when finally permitted to relax; like "good work"**

* * *

"Oh Karkat," you sob, leaning over his broken body. "What did I tell you about playing the hero." He'd dived in front of you and taken attack from the Black King for you, which explained how bloodied and tattered he looked. Only he hadn't died right away, he was slowly bleeding out in front of you and the others. Cherry was spreading out in an ever-increasing pool, and you yourself were smeared with it.

Most of the others don't say any words behind her, maybe too shocked by the revelation of a mutant in their midst. Gamzee and Vriska are finishing off the King while you hold your moirail in his last moments in this body. "I'm so sorry, Karkat," you apologize, as you stroke some hair away from his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

You lean in to kiss him, so he can make the transition from death to dream-self, but something in his eyes causes you to pause. "…Ou did a goo-good job, Kanaya. J-Just relax…now." He says, bloody smile stretching painfully across his face. Moron, he stopped you for that? He could die at any moment and – and –

You feel his heart lurch, and in a panic you crash your lips to his as his last breath escapes his lips. In the background the Black King explodes into grist and other rewards, but you hardly care about that. You check your messages, waiting for Karkat to troll you. He has to be okay, you have to have made it in time.

There's cherry on your hands, and no sign of grey on Trollian. You stare out into space for what feels like an eternity, waiting. Vriska touches your shoulder, and you jerk back to awareness. "I…" you begin, unable to put words to the ache in your soul. "I didn't make it in time." Why did you wait, why? You'd known time was of the essence, why was what Karkat had wanted to say more important than saving his life?

Why?

Vriska touches your cheek, and her hand comes away with jade-tinged tears. You hiccup, and the tears come in earnest now. You let him die, you let – why did – you let him die. He was in your arms, you could have saved him and now he was dead! Why? Why!

"He said something, didn't he Kanaya?" Terezi prompts, harsh voice tempered in the moment. In your grief you don't recall their dance around the flushed quadrant, only know that she is calm and your heart is breaking.

"He said I…I did a good job." You repeat, and your heart latches onto those words suddenly. "I did…a good job." Karkat didn't blame you; he wouldn't (he was – had been such a good moirail) hate you because you'd been slow.

You slump over, and Vriska moved to catch you. Tears still flowed fast and hard, but your heart was letting go of the guilt, relaxing. You still mourned him, and you would forever (he'd been the soul mate meant for your diamond), but knowing you had his forgiveness meant you could let grow of the budding guilt. Because…you'd done a good job.


	24. KanayaRose Br2

**Kanaya(hearts)Rose: Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo: Quenya - A star shines on the hour of our meeting.**

* * *

You met her at an observatory situated inside a state park. It had been one of those nights perfect for stargazing, and along with seven or so people with similar ideas the two of you had each felt the pull of the night sky. So with only a limited umber of smaller, portable telescopes pointed at stars or planets, and the large one inside the observatory not being used at all, it was only a matter of luck that you and Kanaya ended up on the same telescope.

"Sorry," she says, as though her elbow touching yours was an offense horrible enough to merit an apology. In the dark you can't tell the color of her eyes, though her eyeliner is so "on point" that you're rather jealous. Her lips are the oddest color of green, and her hijab matches it so perfectly you wonder if she'd made it herself (that sort of color coordination doesn't normally exist outside of designers for some reason).

"Not a problem," you end up saying, after a moment of consideration, "were you trying to look at Mars tonight?" And you gesture towards the telescope you're standing in front of, the one pointed at Mars in case that wasn't obvious enough. She seemed rather uninterested in the planet to be honest; there was something about the way she smiled at you that caused that sneaking suspicion.

"No, I was looking for the one pointed at Saturn. You don't know which one of those it is, do you?" Her accent is just strong enough you can pinpoint her Middle Eastern origins, and it's rather charming. She has a delightful smile, small and delicate and more than a bit alluring.

"That one there, the one with literally everyone else at it." You say as you point a finger across the rooftop. "But, if you like, you can look at Mars while you wait for the crowd to dwindle." She flashed you another one of those smiles, and when your heart races in response you know you're a goner.

"This is a really good view," she exclaims. "Oh, I don't think I've gotten your name yet. I'm Kanaya Maryam."

"Rose Lalonde," you say as you take her outstretched hand, "and it's a pleasure." Another smile, and this time a blush rises to your cheeks. Luckily the dark helps disguise it, though with skin as fair as yours it's still more than likely glaringly obvious.

Kanaya giggles, "The pleasure is all mine!" As you begin an explanation of Mars' varying geological features visual in the telescope's glass, you feel a little giddy. The stars are literally shining on your meeting her. How poetic.


	25. KanayaKarkat3 Br2

**Kanaya(diamonds)Karkat: Ríastrad (Old Irish) Warp spasm, battle fury, a terrible mutation of the body and mind that Cú Chulainn fell into when excited by war**

* * *

They learn early on that Karkat goes berserk when he is wounded. It's the two of them on LORAF doing quests, and an imp gets in a lucky shot. The resulting slaughter goes on until she can plant her open hand on his cheek. He comes back to himself slowly, pupils slowly returning to normal after having been blown out to paradox space, hands shaking from exertion and trembling fingers losing their grip on his sickle.

All she can think about is how scared she was when his eyes went wide and his pupils swallowed the grey of his irises. All he can think about is the searing red dripping down his arms, how his dirty little secret is on display. And he cringes away from her, smears the blood on his dark sweater and folds in on himself.

"Karkat…" she murmurs, reaching for him, "Karkat it's okay." He recoils from her touch; retreats two steps back for every step she takes forward. So she picks his sickle up from the ground, tries not to commit the look of shame and fear in his eyes to memory, and slices open the back of her hand. Unused as she is to the weapon, the wound is deeper than she intended, but she ignores it in favor of grabbing Karkat's hand.

His look of hope is painful, when she smears their two blood colors together in the palm of his hand. "Blood of my blood," she intones, and then plants a kiss on his forehead. "It'll be okay." And they clean themselves up and return to questing, like it never happened, save for a suddenly full diamond and a more careful approach to battle.

Except being careful does nothing to solve the root of the problem: Karkat's blood maddened rage. Because no matter how careful they are, the imps are more reckless, the bosses more powerful, and sometimes even just an accidental fall could draw enough blood to bring on his madness. Kanaya fears that it will get him killed, one of these days.

And eventually, it does. They were lucky to have been on his planet, having taken a break from frog breeding to do an on the run feelings jam. Needless to say it went badly, a cut too deep, a breathless snarl, and careless lunges forward with sickle primed for the reaping.

Until a fist smashed him into a lake, where he drowned.

She got him to his quest bed in time, barely. And as time would tell, even god tier didn't cure him of his battle madness, only made him more durable. She worried for him, worried for him so much her heart might as well jump from her chest and reside in his. "Blood of my blood," she whispered, once he returned to her with bright wings fluttering behind him.

"Blood of my blood," he responded, and kissed her forehead.


	26. GamzeeKarkat Br2

**Gamzee(diamonds)Karkat: Wintercearig (Old English) Literally "winter-care" or "winter-sorrow". The feeling of sadness equatable to the cold of winter.**

* * *

He'd never been to Jade's planet before it had been thawed, due to the whole meteor on the edge of the void being on the edge of the troll's session, but it was still pretty fucking cold. Like, Alternia had never been this cold either (as far as he could remember), and there was still a little snow in hiding places where the light of Skaia couldn't reach.

It was bone chilling and frightening and it left him feeling as frozen outside the same way his heart felt frozen. Like the cold of Jade's planet was seeping past the flesh on his body and the very thick sweater he'd taken to wearing to hide the smell of his blood color from Terezi all those weeks ago, and matching the cold in his heart. And well, he hated it.

Because whenever chills went down his spine, he was forcibly reminded of his moirail…ex-moirail Gamzee.

Reminded of the weeks and weeks that melted into the years he spent on that meteor after that 5x showdown on the surface/roof of the lab. Resurrected memories of lonely feelings jams on a pile empty of anything but him after the first month of the relationship had just barely ended. He had endless memories of lonely nights when he could have used a pap and a shoosh but instead spent time trying to _find_ his homicidal, out-of-his-pan moirail.

It had been lonely and hard and most of all it hurt. Because Gamzee didn't think he was worth breaking up with, didn't think he was worth a single jam after that first month. Gamzee left him alone for almost three years, with not even a honk to hint he still kept an ear to the ground for him.

He felt used, like a chump. How could he have thought they'd be happy pale mates? He felt like he'd had his conciliatory quadrant rolled up into a ball, where it had been used to wipe beast excrement off the faces of the vilest criminals known to paradox space.

Because Gamzee, who had before his snap been one of the nicest trolls he'd known, had thrown him away like he was worthless. He hadn't deserved a word once his usefulness had been exhausted. He was scum, the lowest of the low. Vriska, if she'd been alive, probably wouldn't have even fed him to her lusus (if her lusus had also been alive. You know what this metaphor sucked major ass, never fucking mind)!

So he stood in the cold wind of LOFAF, and felt the cold bone deep, and remembered.


	27. EridanFeferi2 Br2

**Eridan(diamonds)Feferi: Toska, Russian: Acording to Vladmir Nabokoov, "No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom."**

* * *

They jam less and less these days. He offers, and she gives some excuse. She offers, and he refuses based on something or other. They've been trapped in this dance for two sweeps now, the frequency of cancelled feelings jams increasing the way that water being sucked into a whirlpool becomes faster and faster. She's tired, he's unhappy…neither wants this.

Eridan sometimes spends his nights watching the waves from the port bow of his ship, wondering how Feferi is doing down in her castle. It's different than when he's with her, but not in a tangible way. Like…somehow he's free, when he isn't down under the waves with her. The way the water presses on him when they jam, the stifling way she wants him to sit with his back touching hers, the way it kills him inside when she moves to caress his cheek in pale affection…but here with the moons glowing above him, alone, he can smile again.

Feferi revels in her nights alone, repairs her torn nerves in the silences unburdened by unspoken words. There's guilt too, but it's a passing thought in comparison to the joy of her burden being lifted from her shoulders. She wonders sometimes how she could ever dare to go back to him, because when he's gone she can finally unwind _herself_. With a moirail like Eridan, there's never any room for her. When is it going to be about her? She wants so much for them to be perfect together, and in a perfect moirailship there's _give_ and take. All he does is take!

Why can't he be what she needs?

Why can't she feel what he feels?

"Fef," Eridan says the day of their last jam, though they don't realize it, "Fef, I don't want to be pale anymore." He flushes violet, and his heart races in anticipation. She's been unhappy with the arrangement too, she must want this as much as he does. She has to.

And Feferi cries, because she didn't want to end it. She wanted so many things from Eridan, but this breakup wasn't it. How could he, how _could_ he! He has been, exclusively, the needy one in their relationship these past few sweeps, how can he not tell she needs him too? Doesn't his need call to her need? Has she not been the best moirail she could be? Does she not deserve his reciprocation?

She gouges his face with her claws before jumping from his ship into the surf with a soul-shattering snarl. Left with a dripping cheek and flushed feelings shattered, Eridan allows himself to howl up into the night sky.


	28. EridanFeferi3 Br2

**Eridan(diamonds)Feferi: Tatemae and Honne (Japanese): What you pretend to believe and what you actually believe, respectively**

* * *

"We're not meant to be moirails Fef!" Eridan screams at her, hair wild and eyes shadowed. "We're meant to be something better, something greater!" He screams it at her like those words are all that's keeping him afloat in a storm. Spittle flies from his mouth and there are veins popping out at his temples, but she takes it.

And when he finishes, when he slumps against her and quietly lets Feferi pap his face, she is gentle and forgiving. He grumbles but sort of rearranges himself so his head rests on her shoulders, his legs draped over her hips and his arms wrap around her waist, tired and exhausted and just soul-achingly numb.

"Shush," Feferi murmurs, running her hands through his hair, "It's okay." She understands, she's always understood. His longing isn't for her as a matesprit, or a kismesis, or even as a moirail. He wants her in all the quadrants, tries so hard to make them be the sort of couple that goes beyond the quadrants and lives on in stories and movies.

It's in his motions, in his words, in their fights. The way he positions himself around her, always conscious of what his actions convey to her. He truly wants to believe it, that the two of them could be that sort of couple. But then again, in the moments like this when his anger and frustration have burned themselves out, she knows he doesn't really believe it.

Because in his most vulnerable moments, when he sits in her lap and lets her rub his horns and share her feelings, she knows he's pale for her too. He never says much after he's been emotionally wrung out like this, but if he really believed they were fated and destined to be concupiscent he'd never let her stay his moirail.

So she weathers his tantrums and his posturing for these moments, the moments when they can both sit in a pile of _his _making (all the scarves and cloaks in his closet flung haphazardly together by arms left weak from rage long gone) and just talk. She jams with him in truth then, finally getting to speak out about what troubles her. It's so nice, she thinks, when he's allowed himself to stop pretending.

The weight of this expectation that he fill his quadrants with other seadwellers, despite Feferi being the only one he knows and likes (the only one still around that he knows and likes), has him acting like this. She knows that. It's so frustrating at times though, because when he stops pretending that she's his end-all be-all love…when he allows himself to drop the pretense, he's the moirail she's always wanted. He returns to being the boy she went pale for all those sweeps ago.

Closing her all-white eyes, she leans into Eridan. Though she can't see them, she knows his white eyes are closed too. Even in death, he's still pretending.


	29. EridanFeferi4 Br2

**Eridan/Feferi: La douleur exquise (French)- The exquisite pain that comes from loving someone who will never love you back**

* * *

You love her the way the myths say Hades loved Persephone, with as much passion as a god can muster and with a selfishness that never wants to let her go. But you let her go anyway, because the grace and kindness and wonder of her personality do this bitter world a great service. She does you a great kindness by even being your friend (you don't have many friends).

It hurts though, to watch her run to arms other than yours. Because Feferi is a butterfly, and you are the longing moth (creatures of different worlds). What you wouldn't give to join her, hold her, to make her yours. Yours alone, in the whole world.

You'd kill for that.

But you don't, though her attachment to the low class buffoon is an insult (how dare she choose him over you! Clearly, you're the superior man). Not even when she dates the sweaty asshole that lives two houses down from you (a relative term, both your families own extensive lands), though that choice leaves you crying into your pillow for weeks.

You're fine though, because she's still your best friend. And even better, you're still her best friend. The best, so no one can take you spot. Even just that much, being her best friend, eases the pain of not being romantically first in her heart. Just that much, knowing that you are her platonic life partner, makes it that much more bearable.

Though you still contemplate wiping all of her suitors off the planet in your darker moments.

Your buddy Karkat worries about you, "Man, aren't you fucking sleeping?" You tell him that you have been, but you haven't. The thought that she might…might actually…get physical with her relationship with "Mr. Zahhak" disgusts you. It keeps you up at night, thinking about how she'd let those other men take advantage of her.

You're the only one who could possibly treat her right.

So what, if when you're kept up by thoughts of Fef being _touched_ by inferior men you start making plans to liberate her? So what, if those plans get darker and less kind the fewer hours of sleep you get? She deserves better than them (she deserves you)!

You stop talking to Karkat, since all he wants to talk about is your stupid health. _Yes_, you lie (you're always lying to him nowadays). _I've been sleeping_. _No_, you'll say, _I haven't spoken to Fef_. Feferi hasn't spoken to you in weeks; she's been too wrapped up in her new boyfriends (those stupid whores who think they can take her form you, damn them all).

But you'll fix that, and soon. She'll talk to you then, she'll love you then!

"Eridan!" Her voice cuts across the gloom of Zahhak's dark bedroom. A beam of light from the doorway lights up just enough for her to see what you've done. "Eridan, what have you done?"

And red drips from your face as you stand up tall and proud, "I made us okay again. We can be together now, Fef, the way we were always meant to be!" Because Captor and Zahhak lie at your feet, both of her boyfriends out of the way now, and your path to her heart finally lies clear.

Your heart can rest; the pain can finally stop crippling you. You spread your arms and announce, "I love you, Fef." And she screams.


	30. EridanFeferi5 Br2

**Eridan(diamonds)Feferi: Kummerspeck (German): Excess weight gained from emotional overeating**

* * *

"You're looking a little tubby, Fef." Eridan comments offhandedly as he's putting his cape back on. "Maybe you shouldn't be eating so much grub-cake, it's not good for you." Then he smiles as her, all violet cheeks and glittering coal eyes, before he swims out her window. "See you later, Fef!" he calls back to her, meeting his lusus after a few yards and eventually disappearing from view.

Feferi is fuchsia in the face with her fury, and when she turns on her heel she uses the momentum to throw her fist into her wall. The wall is split into two by a fracture that spider-webs across its surface. Breathing heavily, she glares at her handiwork, hateful of all things. But the tension in her shoulders eases when a cuttlefish swims into view.

Petting it like a purrbeast, she shoots the ocean outside the window one more vitriolic look before stomping her way to the kitchen. Slamming open various cabinets and throwing foods onto the countertops, she growled to herself as she began making a meal.

Sure, she wasn't hungry, but she was angry and the only way to stay sane sometimes was to shove a whole grub-cake into your gullet in one go. So she did. And as per usual after Eridan pissed her off in some way before leaving (as he always did, without even pausing to think about reciprocating in the jam session), she felt much better after ingesting an entire confection.

Grumbling now more out of distaste rather than out and out rage, Feferi pulled more portable snacks out of "hidden" places. With her arms laden down with sugars and salts and whatever else she had been able to pilfer from the supply drones, and she'd only ever taken the luxury victuals, she began her feelings jam of one.

Sitting down in a pile of cuttlefish toys, she squirmed around to get comfortable (since she'd probably be here a while). Pulling a mirror out of her sylladex, she placed it in a position across from her. Staring at herself, she popped one morsel of comfort food into her mouth.

"So," she began, addressing the mirror with a frown turning the edges of her mouth down, "what did he do this time." And she sat and listened to the susurrus of the currents outside her hive, and pretended it was her voicing her problems and issues to a moirail who cared.

"Sucks," Feferi commiserated to her reflection, before eating another mouthful. "You deserve better…"


	31. DiscipleSignless2 Br2

**Disciple(hearts)Signless: Koev halev, Hebrew. Identifying with the suffering of another so closely that one hurts oneself, that one's heart aches**

* * *

You watch him almost all the time. You always have. His triumphs are your triumphs and his failures are yours as well. Matesprits and more, a love that transcends the quadrants! How the stars will mourn for him, how they will weep for you, when you are both gone. Tales of your love will echo throughout the sweeps, and they will know of your passion if not your name eons from now.

But that will come later. For now, it is grimy work being the love of a mutant heretic. He needs your claws, not your heart, in these perilous days. And if that is all you can give, you will give it gladly.

Some nights the talk of better futures, of dreams of peace and prosperity and an equality no one dares to dream of, doesn't end well. Your love is still a mutant, and his bright blood (the color of hot iron) sometimes doesn't go over well with the low-bloods. They throw stones at him; curse him and his aberrant status, saying things that are as vicious as they are cruel. The words that bruise his heart bruise your own in return.

How can they hate him so much? How can they throw his passion and his vision back in his face? Don't they see how it tears him up inside, when they call him a day-addled fool? When they dismiss his vision of an equal Alternia because of _precedent_? What is precedent anyway, but a pre-occurring happening? They had to have happened once, and isn't their dream of change possible? Could it not happen too?

You cry for him, at night. You cry for him because he won't. He can't. He smiles still, all sadness and bruised hope, and brushes away your tears. He touches his forehead to yours, and you know in your heart that he is too good for this blasted planet. No one deserves him, not even you. And you cry again because you have been gifted a miracle, simply by being by his side.

When the high-bloods come for him, you fight. Your claws tear, your teeth rend, and though you are barely aware of it you can hear Rosa and Psi doing the same. He never fights though. Doesn't surrender, doesn't resist, merely stands in the middle of the chaos and pleads with you and his mother and his moirail to stop.

Please stop.

Your tears are gone when they string him up on the whipping block. You watch the lash tear bright red streaks across the skin you used to kiss inch by inch, and you howl with rage and pain. Your yowls are only silenced when they crack you across the head, because the trauma they gave you makes you dizzy and nauseous. But still you watch, and you memorize every lash, every mark they give him.

Because one day that will be a debt repaid, and they will wish they had been kinder.

The arrow that kills him rips his first unkind words from his lips. And your vision bleeds red, and you can only think that if you live to avenge him you will be only too glad, because your heart is bleeding. Somehow, you live.

You don't know why you do, because Psi is as good as dead, and Rosa…you have no idea what happened to Rosa. All you have is this bungling executioner, who couldn't even finish his job. You want to kill him, but your beloved's voice stays your hand.

His voice stays your hand for thirty more sweeps, until your hand shakes too much for you to get your revenge. Your heart still bleeds, and you still spend nights screaming at the moon, but soon enough it won't bleed anymore. You will welcome that endless sleep, because the pain of living with a broken heart has become nigh unbearable.

You cry for him, one last time. And though it is in truth Darkleer's hand brushing away your tears in a fit of pale affection, all you feel is the rougher touch of Signless' hand against your cheek.


	32. DirkAR Br2

**Dirk(spades)/AR: Wei-wu-wei (Chinese): means conscious nonaction. It's a deliberate, and principled, decision to do nothing whatsoever, and to do it for a particular reason**

* * *

"_Aren't you scared to die, Dirk? I am. I am so scared."_ You shut off the conversation after that. Manually turned off his communicative abilities, left him mute in a world so much bigger and scarier than even you thought it could be (and him a simple pair of glasses). And you think it over again, your decision to snap him in two, your decision to destroy him.

And you wonder if it would really be murder.

Auto-responder has rather gotten a personality of his own, though he as no body to speak of. His only means of communication are pesterlogs. But he managed to date Roxy, managed to turn Jake's attention towards you, joked with Jane…he's as much a part of your team as you are, isn't he?

You don't know.

How can you be sure? He's a robot, a long slice of code that enables a measure of artificial intelligence, the ability to adapt, but above all he is a facet of _your_ personality. And so he is your responsibility, to keep or to destroy, as a true Prince of Heart is wont to do.

But would it be murder? He isn't just a piece of you any longer. You could assimilate him, but it would be painful to smooth those edges of different back down into same. You could throw him into Equius-sprite, creating a new being that is neither AR nor troll, but you're not sure you could deal with the fallout of it (you're not sure you want to).

No, you could do either of those things, but you won't. He's cracked, from your earlier attempt to smash him, and it does fill you with a little guilt. So you run your fingers over the cracks, willing them to mend (they don't of course). And, very carefully, you turn the communicative abilities back on for one simple message.

"I'm sorry."

Then you switch them back off, before he has a chance to reply. The red glow behind the lenses gives the appearance of ethereal eyes watching you warily. And with no ceremony, you gently dump AR into a drawer.

You will ignore him for a while; leave him to stew in his fear and his difference. And then, when you are no longer bristling with anger, annoyance, and emotionally unstable, you will revisit his plea for his own body.

But for now, you will do nothing.


	33. DaveJade Br2

**Dave(hearts)Jade: Dor_,_ Romanian, the longing for someone you love very much, combined with sadness, and implies the need to sing sad songs; its etymology relates it to "dorinta" which means wish**

* * *

Dave grew up in Houston, he's about as American as they get. He expects he's more American than most, now that most of America is dead (John is practically Canadian, Jade grew up in the Pacific Islands, and Rose is _Californian_). So he doesn't really have any mourning rituals. Americans sort of don't.

Trolls though, their corpse parties have a sort of class that he only hopes to emulate now. Because Jade is dead, in his arms. His heart aches the way he expects Karkat's did when Gamzee killed Terezi. And he howls, wishing he could turn back time, keep her alive, but that would be pointless. They're doomed anyway.

Saving her life would only doom her to the painful death a doomed timeline gifts its inhabitants. So he crouches by her body and lets the ache in his heart rip out his throat, exploding into the air like an atom bomb. God he wishes she were here, she'd know what to say.

There's nothing left but to sit here with her corpse, give her a proper burial and a proper corpse party, and wait for the dark end that the destruction of their timeline will bring. Time to get started.

He kisses her one last time, knowing that with the destruction of Prospit and LOFAF there isn't any other body for her soul to inhabit, no chance for her to god tier like he did. It doesn't matter; she deserves a last intimate touch. Silently telling her goodbye, in stoic American fashion, he closes her eyes.

"Goodnight Jade Harley." He says, and then there's twelve of him, all in stable time loops (though aside from possible extra dead Dave's there's not too much point to keeping them that way), all busy with some sort of work. Corpse parties aren't all that complicated, but he wants to make it the best. Jade deserves the best.

When he's finished, there's a large funeral pyre (taller than John's house) taking up about a six foot squared diameter. Jade is safely secured on top of it, no danger of her vacating her funeral midway through. He knows he ought to try stuffing her, but he can't bring himself to do that.

So he lights her up, sending her ashes and sparks into the stars, and hums something he thinks sounds like a funeral march (he stops when he realizes it's Star Wars, fuck how could he make such a stupid mistake). But eventually he sits there crying, watching the flames go on and on, as the universe around them crumbles.

"You got a fast car," he sobs, "Maybe together we can – can get somewhere."


	34. LatulaSollux Br3

**Latula & Sollux: AU where Latula introduces her boyfriend's little brother to video games. **

* * *

"Latula!" Sollux lisps, five years old and literally the cutest thing you've ever seen. He's still got that soft baby face you used to tease Mituna about back in sixth grade, and he's taken to wearing 3D glasses all the time. The plastic frames are oversized, and he's constantly pushing them back up on his nose.

"Hey sprout," you say as you ruffle his hair, "is Mituna around?" You're supposed to be going on a date tonight, and he's late. In fact, he's so late you hopped on your skateboard and came on over to his house. You were a bit peeved, but sometimes Mituna just forgot stuff, so if you could just get ahold of him and get your explanation, you'd probably forgive him.

"Nah," Sollux said, matter-of-fact and with just a twist at the corners of his mouth hinting at a frown. "'Tuna said that Kurloz had a bad…bad overdose? He left earlier. Told me to call auntie Porrim if there was a problem." He finally lets you in the door, partly because he's five and alone in the house, but mostly because he stalled you at the door with his dorky babyish smile.

"Oh," you say, because what else was there? Kurloz is Mituna's best friend, and if he's in a bad place it's only logical that 'Tuna forgot to call you. "That's okay," you mention, as though your entire night derailing is literally nothing to you, "That means we can hang out, right 'Lux?" And you grin, knowing that he's never played 'Tuna's GameCube before.

"Yeah," Sollux says seriously, nodding his head so sharply his bicolored glasses hang on to his face by only one ear. "Can you make me some mac 'n cheese?" He asks seriously, as he follows you to the living room. "'Tuna promised, but then he had to go 'way."

You pretend to think about it, before giggling and pressing the power button. "Of course I can!" You say, as the GameCube screen lights up on the TV, "What else is big sis' 'Tula for?" Picking him up isn't hard, because he's really light for a five year old, and you let him sit on the tabletop while you work on his dinner.

"We're gonna play 'Tuna's games?" Sollux asks, eyes wide and lisp making for an adorable picture. What you wouldn't give for a camera. You nod seriously, though of course the up-quirk of your lips sort of ruins the solemn image you're trying to project. "And he won't get mad?"

"Of course not, silly. Why would he get mad at such rad dudes like us?" She winks, and hands him an almost overly full bowl of macaroni. "Eat up, sprout, because after you finish it's you, and me, and hours of Mario Kart ahead of us."


	35. DaveRose Br3

**Dave/Rose: AU where Rose is a witch, and Dave is her crow familiar.**

* * *

"Dave," Rose drawls, one perfectly manicured eyebrow quirked to indicate minor annoyance. "What are you doing?" The crow in question caws once, loud and harsh, before bobbing his way over to her in a flurry of awkward jumps and feathers. Rose isn't deterred, and she motions to the mess by her familiar's perch. "Dave, what is that?"

He shrieks, the way only carrion birds can, and beats his wings against her head. It's a cocky motion, and really, he should know by now you're not deterred by his "dumb bird" routine. "Dave. Use your words."

"Aw, Rose, come on! Can't a bird have a secret project or two? It'll be dicks, yo." He says, amongst more of the rambling that you've become accustomed to, since it happens whenever he opens his beak to speak. But still, it's hardly becoming for a witch's familiar to speak so openly, brazenly, and with such little mystique.

What is he saying now anyway? She'd sort of tuned out, as her precious little blackbird tended to be rather long winded. "More of the sort of dicks that ejaculate gold, you know? Like pure nuggets of gold, not the shitty dicks that pump out sperm and shit. I'm telling you, Rose; it'll be the bitch-tits. The best tits.

"All tits will be jealous of it. And I'll have fucking thumbs. Fucking thumbs, Rose. Imagine all the sick beats I'll make. That fucking mockingbird out in the yard will die of envy. I'll be the most musical bird, Rose. That fucking mockingbird will suck dicks. So many dicks, because he'll be defeated. Losers suck dick, Rose."

Yikes, looks like he's been reading through your spell books again. That's something that needs to be remedied immediately, because a human familiar never turns out well. There are chapters, multiple chapters, in her beginner's spell book that highlight the many and varied reasons not to turn one's familiar into a human. The least of those is the possibility that some unsuspecting mortal engages in illicit sexual activities with the familiar, and births/impregnates the familiar with an inhuman, otherworldly horror.

With a wave of her wand, grimly decorated for stylistic points, the clumsy amalgamation of potion ingredients disappears back to whence it came. "I think not, Dave." Rose says primly, spreading out her skirt before sitting down in her chair with a nice novel. "You know why, too, so don't bother whining about it. It's not happening."

His offended shrieks are so offensive to her eardrums that she considers turning him into a salamander.


	36. EridanKarkat Br3

**Eridan (spades)/(hearts) Karkat: AU where Eridan is Team Aqua and Karkat is Team Magma, and they meet at Mt. Chimney** (special permission from prompter to switcheroo)

* * *

In the end, the only reason he stopped was because the Magma Grunt behind him twisted his ankle and fell, with a gut-wrenching yelp. So Karkat turned around, threw the lightweight magma-sucker over his shoulder, and booked it. "Sorry," he grunted, "but now is a bad time to be a clumsy fucker. Can't you see the fucking volcano is erupting?"

"Put me down, ya lout!" The red-clad moron screeched (right in his ear, too…ungrateful bastard) as he shoved a fist, hard, into Karkat's right kidney. A cry of "shit," and they both tumbled down a rocky incline. In a flurry of limbs, some of which made contact with Karkat's groin, solar plexus, and temple, the Aqua and Magma grunts found themselves bruised at a point close to the Lavaridge side of the Jagged Pass.

"Fuck," Karkat groaned, body in a state of intense discomfort. A mumbled noise of agreement came from the lava-licker, but considering whose fault it was they were in this state…well, Karkat couldn't find any sympathy in his heart. "We're going to get arrested now, I hope you know, you big cunt." He snarled, forcing through the pain to sit up.

He was going to strangle that little shit right here. Pouncing on his elemental enemy, he ripped the hood off the fucker's head.

"Eridan?"

"Karkat?"

Still straddling Eridan's chest, Karkat rocks backward so his weight rests on his heels. "You told me – you told me you couldn't catch the ferry from Mossdeep to Lilycove this weekend. WE CANCELLED A DATE BECAUSE OF THAT." Karkat suddenly screams, fists gripping onto Eridan's red hoodie. "Why would you do that to me, you asshole? Why would you ditch me for this?

"Am I not enough anymore? You have some Magma bitch on the side now?" Karkat removes himself from Eridan so fast that it's almost as if they were being magnetically repelled from each other. "How could I have been so stupid…?"

"It's not like that Kar," Eridan squeaks, voice higher pitched than normal from distress. "I just wanted…I wanted them, Magma I mean, to win. Then we could meet in the middle. We could just…walk to each other.

"I needed there to be more land, so we could walk around the world together."

"You moron," Karkat says, face still turned away but voice so much gentler than just previously. He turns back to Eridan, and leans down to cup the other's face in his hands. "You absolute, blessed, ignoramus. If Aqua wins there's more water, you idiot.

"And I've been saving up for a boat, just so you know. I was going to invite your stupid ass on a fucking cruise around the world. We were going to be the happiest damn couple out there."

Eridan beams at him before struggling out of his uniform hoodie, and launching upward to wrap his boyfriend in a hug. "Kar, let's go home. Either of our homes," he adds, when it looks like Karkat might open his mouth to speak.

Karkat shuts his mouth, and rips off the Aqua bandaa from his head. He looks down at the pants in disgust, before pulling a pair of scissors from a pouch at his sides to cut them down to shorts. Then a shy smile flashes across his face, only to be replaced by his normal frown.

"Okay, home then." He pecks a kiss onto Eridan's cheek, and flushes when Eridan's smile gets even bigger. "Oh shut up."


	37. DaveRose2 Br3

**Dave (hearts) Rose: fantasy AU where rose is a necromancer and Dave, her companion, has not been made entirely away he's a construct she raised from the dead**

* * *

It was hard, to look at him up there, in his coffin. To look at him when he was dead, and cold to the touch of your fingertips when he should have been warm and inviting and above all alive! Dave should have been alive. And the worst thing was that it was her fault that he was dead. Hers, and hers alone.

He'd taken a rapier to the heart for her, good brother that he was. He's laid there, blood blooming from the red epicenter of a gruesome flower, and smiled at her. He'd touched her face with a shaking hand, trailing his lifeblood on her cheek with his fingertips, and smiled. And now he was gone. She was alone in the world, the lonely half of a matched pair.

But not for much longer, even if Dave had been dead for nearly a week, there were things that could be done. The necromantic arts held the possibility of renewed life for her beloved brother, one that would hold until her passing (as was only befitting for her own twin). But getting her hands on the body would be difficult, but not so difficult that it would stop her.

She merely waited until Dave's coffin had been lowered into the hole and covered with dirt, waited for the sun to set and the late-night mourners to vacate the area. And then she dug. It took her a while, for she was not the one known for strength (no, that was always Dave), but she managed it before the stars of night faded into the blue pre-dawn glow of morning.

A quickly muttered spell gave the corpse movement, so that it would follow her of its own volition. Her eyes grew watery to see Dave's form stumbling behind her, so like when they were little. Thank all the dark ones that granted her power, but they were off the graveyard grounds and safely ensconced inside her home a little after the break of dawn.

She so longed to kiss Dave, but he wasn't himself just yet. Removing his fancy shirt to inspect the hole the sword pierced in him, she ran her fingers over the ripple that stitched skin and muscle produced over his heart. A black spark of magic from her fingertips worked its wretched miracle over the torn and punctured tissues, and soon the skin was again as flawless as it had been in life.

More inspections of his body allowed her to trace constellations over his moles and freckles, fix other imperfections that she had hated, and tangle her hands in his hair before stealing a violent, desperate kiss. She pulled back though, because while it was Dave's body, his soul was still stuck in the afterlife.

One more wave of magic, and she was sure his body was ready. It was time to prepare for stealing his soul back for him. It was time to steal her lover, her brother, back from Death itself. Drawing the appropriate diagrams on the floor took hours. The sweat of her brow would smear the chalk, and she would have to start over. She finished the last rune by midnight and fell into a wearied sleep, lulled into peacefulness by the knowledge that the body of Dave would watch over her until she woke.

She began the incantation at dusk the next day, dressed in her robes and cowl. The five hours it took to summon Dave's soul were worth it; the next seven it took to remove the memories of death and bind him to his body were exultant and blurred together with hope and fear.

The last spell to give the newly rejoined body and soul a heartbeat and true life exhausted her of her last drop of magic. Dave gasped, as his body kicked itself back into a living biorhythm. Hyperventilation slowed to the gentle rate of the deeply asleep, and Rose beamed with pride. Tired, and drained, she shed the robes of ritual and climbed onto the couch Dave slept on. Despite her nudity, she curled around him, tension she didn't know she was carrying melted away as she drowsily drank in the warmth of his newly alive body.

He could never know. He would never know.


	38. DaveJadeJohnRose Br3

**Dave/Jade/John/Rose: AU where they're all different types of supernatural creatures but somehow still get along great**

* * *

"John," Dave said primly, unconsciously channeling his Rose impression, "Why didn't you tell me that you're a shape shifter?" His red eyes flashed, reminding John uncomfortably of lightning, and when his feathers ruffled with ire the rumble of thunder was the noise they produced.

"Er," John mumbled, ears unconsciously turning into that of a dog, "It wasn't important?" He offered, canine ears flattened in his discomfort. A noise more like a whine escaped his throat, and John flushed to hear it. Shaking his head to clear the unwilling transformation, John stood straight and refused to slip into the form of any other animal. "Well, Mr. High-and-mighty, why didn't you tell me that you are a Thunderbird?" He accused, poking viciously at Dave's wings.

Dave ruffled his feathers on purpose this time, and the crack of thunder that followed echoed through the room. "Thought it was pretty obvious, you dork." The rumbling caught the attention of Rose and Jade, and brought them into the living room. "Oh great, Rose is back."

"She is, and she would prefer you not talk about her in that tone of voice, David Strider." Rose said, calm as you please, as she glided into the room. Rose of course, was a banshee. "I'll have you know that the queen of England should be dying soon. I've gone and given her the proper warning, as is demanded of my kind."

"That why Jade went too?" Dave asked, finally a little interested.

"She's not a banshee, since you seem to have forgotten. But yes, there were quite a few of us there. A person of that much importance deserves a congregation of banshees. Of course the police had us disbanded after much thought. But no, Jade went with me because the witches conference was in London this year."

"Yeah, Dave!" Jade said brightly, smoothing out her long skirt before settling herself comfortable in Dave's lap. This of course brought out a snicker from John, who promptly squirmed his way under Dave's arm and snuggled into the feathers (he ended up with hair that stood up with the static electricity that the motions of snuggling with Thunderbird feathers had generated).

"Save room for me, you miscreants!" Rose cried, voice just sharp enough to be uncomfortable on the eardrums. She then jumped into Jade's lap, eliciting a grunt of minor discomfort from Dave, and rested her sock-clad feet on John's head. "There, now we're all together. Who's up for a Supernatural marathon?"

"Oh, me!" her companions cheered, with the exception of Dave, who groaned. They'd watched the last three seasons in the past two days. Why was life so cruel?


	39. AradiaKanaya Br3

**Aradia (hearts) Kanaya: AU where Aradia and Kanaya are statues that come alive at night when no one is around to see them; they become immobile and insensate once more when spotted, and stay that way until they are alone again**

* * *

The lights in the park clicked on as dusk fell. By the time the large clock on the other side of town showed ten o'clock, the park had long been deserted. As out of the way as it was, the park had been empty much longer than you would have thought. But, only the really interesting things happened in the dark.

As the twilight fell to night, the earliest stars beginning their ritual dance, she came to life. She was a well-loved statue, dedicated to the nurses and caretakers of a nearby hospital. Some called her a caretaker, a poetic few called her a sylph, and malcontents merely called her a waste of space. But every day found new flowers placed at her feet by a few patients grateful to their nurses, to their doctors.

And when the stars began twinkling up above, she stretched her arms out, and stepped off her podium. Yawning, white marble making the faintest grinding noise as it softened to flesh; Kanaya rushed herself over to her only fellow statue in the park. "Aradia," Kanaya said breathily, as the fountain maiden waded towards her.

"Kanaya," Aradia replied warmly, getting Kanaya soaking wet when they embraced. "Prompt, as always." Kanaya blushed, but interlaced her fingers with her girlfriend anyway. "Let's go on an adventure!" Aradia said brightly, now that reuniting was complete. Leading the two of them deeper into the park, joined at the wrist as they were, made Aradia's stone heart pound with bliss.

She stopped when Kanaya chased after some frogs, and smiled when the other girl cradled the cuties close to her chest. "Can we take them back to your fountain?" Kanaya asked, now having to resort to piling the little amphibians in the folds of her dress to hold them all. A silent 'please' remained unsaid, and the gentle, shy up-tilt of her lips sold Aradia on the idea.

Twelve frogs safely ensconced in the little pond by Aradia's fountain later, and the dawn was mere hours away. Reluctantly, Aradia pressed a kiss to the corners of Kanaya's mouth, sad for the parting. "Tomorrow we finish our adventure," Aradia vowed, and Kanaya smiled broadly in return.

"Of course," she replied. Walking backwards towards her pedestal, so she could keep her eyes on Aradia as long as possible, Kanaya watched her slowly return to the position she would be frozen back into. The groundskeeper, as late as always, appeared with his back turned to her, and suddenly Aradia was stone again.

Kanaya barely made it back to her own pedestal in time; she assumed the position even as the groundskeeper locked eyes on her non-living stone body. This coming night, she will return to Aradia, as she has every night for the past twenty years.


	40. KanayaRose Br3

**Kanaya (hearts) Rose: AU where all the trolls are books, and Rose finds Kanaya**

* * *

Her favorite place to go with her friends is a rundown library on the outskirts of town. It's run by a little, wrinkly old lady named Callie, who keeps the shelves stocked with the oddest things. Rose is always greeted with a knowing smile when she enters through the bright green doors, before Jade (or John, or Dave, or whoever she's dragged with her this time) steals the little woman's attention.

And no matter whom she brought with her, nothing ever stopped her from returning to her favorite section of this scarcely known library. It was not titled at all, simply one shelf tucked away in a clearly well tended to, but not often visited, corner that held twelve books.

Each of these books were unique, most had apparently been rescued from abusive owners (she'd wheedled their origins out of Lady Callie after several weeks of experiencing horror at several books either being incomplete due to fire/water damage, multiple blank pages, or the one that had literally had its latter half ripped out), and each one was the last of its kind. So whenever she came to this library, she made time to just sit and spend time with these books.

She liked _The Bloodied Knight_, but after her first time opening it (and sending the multitudes of loose pages flying across the floor), she'd put the heartfelt story of fear and difference and acceptance back on the shelf. Maybe one day she'd try to fix it, but somehow the way its grey binding just barely managed to keep the book together was part of its charm.

Rose had never felt an urge to read _The Ram and the Dead Girl_, but she had flipped through it once (she'd found that literally every page was either illegible or torn out). She'd put it back on the shelf with a tender care the previous owners had obviously not shown it. _T. Nitram_ was a brown book with a title done in fiery letters. The saddest part about that book was that half the pages were left empty, only compounded due to the cliffhanger the words ended on.

_Doom's Twin_ was actually two novels in one, and it had old and brittle, yellowed pages inside its cover. The edges were singed where it had clearly come into contact with a fire, and Rose always made sure to treat it with care. The _Capricious Clown_ had a black cover with its title in blocky grey letters, but its text had been ruined by the bullet holes that riddle the pages. Rose always felt saddened when she looked at it.

On one of the three shelves _For the Love of the Law_ sat between _The Prince's Despair_ and _The Witch and Her Demon_. The black-bound romance novel was about the illicit, sometimes vitriolic relationship between a beat cop and a man she suspected of being a vigilante. It was one of Rose's favorites, despite its seemingly unrealistic premise. _The Prince's Despair_ had a velvety, violet cover, but was missing its back end. It looked a lot like someone had taken a chainsaw to it. _The Witch and Her Demon_ was a Lovecraftian novel about a young girl who found herself raised to take care of an Old God. It's beige cover and fuchsia lettering hardly prepared one for the scandals that the young witch got herself into, and Rose had been horrified to realize that many pages had holes torn straight through the middle.

_Spider's Serket_ was a light blue book completely covered in cobwebs, which Rose had never brought herself to open (who knew what sort of spiders dared to live in such a clean corner of the library?) But one of her favorites things about this particular bookshelf was that two companion books, _Huntress' Moon_ and _Heir's Sun_, sat together away from the others. They both suffered from severe water damage, but _Huntress's Moon_'s blue cover had, at some point, been sliced by claws (likely cat ones), while the olive cover of _Heir's Sun_ was tattered around the edges. It was cute, and while she wished she could have read their intertwined story, she wasn't too torn up about it.

But her favorite book was a white bound novel with elegant, cursive titling in a glittering jade color. It had been abused as well, in its past (two chapters towards the end had been nearly obliterated by a hole ripped through the center of its pages), but its story touched her heart. The _Angel has Fangs_ was a book after her own heart, with vampires and vengeance and love of all kinds.

There were forgotten legacies that resurfaced unexpectedly, best friends that fell into a love that was greater than that of any other and yet still did not cross the line into romance. There was a romantic love interest that reflected the light Rose found in the protagonist, and the ending always made her cry.

It was always sad to read about that girl, that woman who grew so much over the course of her own story, giving her life to save that of her platonic life partner. It broke her heart. She loved that protagonist, that careful, sassy, glowing Kanaya. Rose always, always made time to read about her.

Rose never let Kanaya grow dusty, like her fellows on the shelf. She would never let that happen. As long as she lived, Kanaya would have a faithful reader.


	41. GamzeeKarkat Br3

**Gamzee (diamonds) Karkat: AU where Karkat is the one who goes on a killing spree**

* * *

The horror-terrors were in his dreams, when he allowed himself to sleep. They whispered dark things in his mind, trapped him the darkness until he screamed himself awake. He tried not to sleep, but kept slipping back into their eldritch embrace when he couldn't keep his eyes open any more. Their abominable shrieks were demanding and he didn't understand them. Sometimes he even heard them while he was awake.

He just knew they wanted something from him, and that if they drove him mad with their whispers, he would do it (whatever it was). He started isolating, if only to keep the others from listening to him screaming in his sleep. He was stupidly angry all the time; his frayed nerves only compounded the problem.

When he rejoined the group, his screaming matches with Eridan and Terezi were monumental. He couldn't stand Terezi, his mixed feelings for her roiled inside him until he couldn't remember why he'd been flushed for her anymore. All he knew was that she pushed the part of him that was already listening to the menacing whispers into the light. And Eridan was defending her, when he tried pushing her away.

He hated them both.

One night, when he awakened from his nightly forced audience with the Old Gods, his mind snapped. Too long without proper sleep, and emotions manipulated by the cruel voices that whispered in his ears even when he was waking. His rage was red hot, and he grabbed his sickle and went to join the others.

Except the control room was empty of everyone but Eridan, Feferi, and Sollux. Things were getting heated between the three, and Karkat's arrival put a halt to a brewing fight, but not before Eridan managed to shoot Feferi through the stomach. And then he sliced Eridan's throat open from behind him, buried his sickle in Sollux's navel and sliced upwards.

Dark energy radiated off him, and he still only felt rage. There was still more to do. He let loose a primal shriek, and set off again. The tendrils that radiated from his black shroud licked at the edges of the meteor's halls, and he sensed the life of his enemies (friends?) through them.

He found Tavros' body next. He felt nothing, nudged the corpse with his toe, and moved on. Vriska he found next, beaten and having bled out on the steps. Again, he felt nothing. He stepped over her, and continued climbing. Nepeta confronted him before he reached the top, with claws bared and olive tears glistening on her face. He disemboweled her and moved on.

Equius showed up later, nursing bruises and near out of his mind with grief. Karkat's grim shroud put him off balance, as it was probably one of the last things he expected. Equius was in the way however, so swift kick managed to push the blue blood off the stairs and down into the void below. And Karkat continued to ascend the steps. The dark part of him that was enthralled with this new power and speed wondered where Terezi was, wondered if she would be afraid.

If she would scream, when he killed her.

Karkat made it to the rooftop with his sickle having gone sticky with multi-colored blood, and basked in the attention that was turned to him. Terezi stared in his direction, brow furrowed. He must smell different, cloaked as he was in the horror-terrors' powers. Gamzee was there, colored with cerulean blood and in a defensive pose, but he looked up at Karkat with a sort of sadness. And Kanaya as well, but she just looked worried.

He smiled at them all, and the screams of his masters bid him forward. Sickle raised, he started towards them at a pace that quickly became a run. He was screaming, and maybe there were tears as well, and he prepared to cut Kanaya in half with one fell swing. However, Gamzee stepped between the sickle and the jade blood at the last second.

"Shh, brother," Gamzee soothed, allowing the weapon to cut into his shoulder. Putting his big hands on Karkat's face, Gamzee soothed him. "Shh, it's okay." The viciously writhing black aura calmed, and Karkat slouched into the touch. "Shh."

Karkat purred, and Gamzee twisted his hands suddenly. The mutant fell to the rooftop, neck snapped. And the clown turned back to Terezi and Kanaya with eyes that flashed red.

"Welcome, to the Dark Circus."


	42. KarkatNepeta Br3

**Karkat (hearts) Nepeta: marching band AU where the ferocious clarinet section leader has a crush on the puny tuba player**

* * *

You'd met each other that first summer practice, freshman year. "Nepeta Leijon," you'd said, sticking out your hand and smiling gently at the lanky, almost panicked-looking guy. "Clarinet," you'd clarified, shaking the clarinet in your other hand gently, as if he'd not seen it. He sort of stared at you, all albino skin and sunscreen (so much you'd smelled like it all day, and you struggled to remember if you'd touched him because how else would it have gotten on you?), and then almost reluctantly reached out to return the handshake.

"Karkat…Vantas," he'd replied, and his voice had been so gruff and he'd frowned so sternly at you (but it wasn't off-putting, because his eyes said he was frightened out of his mind). And then grudgingly, as though an after-thought, "I play tuba." And you'd smiled broadly, pleased as punch to have made a new friend, even though the upperclassmen were screaming for people to get back into position. You ate lunch with him every day during summer band, and introduced him to the other eclectic bunch of friends you'd cobbled together over that first day.

And it just sort of grew like that. Terezi, the girl who like dragons as much as you liked cats, brought her foster sister and best friend Vriska (who brought her sometimes boyfriend, Tavros, with her), Equius, your best friend, tried to bring in Aradia (she didn't always stick around but she brought with her Sollux, who was quickly involved in a hostile sort of friendship with Karkat), and eventually there were twelve of you guys eating sandwiches and salads in the appropriated, empty orchestra hall.

Which was nice, even if Feferi was a junior, and her best friend Eridan was a stupidly haughty sophomore. Between her and Gamzee (a completely stoned percussionist, who also happened to be a second-year senior), you had the upperclassmen part of the group completely covered! And when summer band was over, you hardly expected to see most of the group outside of afterschool practice and football games!

So you were of course, completely and pleasantly surprised to find Karkat and Terezi in your band class period. And, over the course of the school year you found yourself completely head over clarinet crushing on Karkat, despite his glaringly obvious interest in Terezi (who was either completely uninterested, or sympathetic but not reciprocating). But you just did nothing, and when summer rolled around again the only plus side to still having such a major crush was that at least your blush was hidden by the heat-induced flush.

Sophomore year passed much the same as freshman year, though you did try dating Equius for about a week before realizing it felt too weird. So when you guys returned to being friends, you decided to clue Equius in on who it was you really were into. He actually approved, which was good considering he was still your best friend, and offered to help you woo the oblivious Vantas.

You declined, and spent almost all of sophomore year pining. You did, at least, put a little anonymous note in Karkat's school locker asking him out to the Girl's Choice dance. You'd marked it with a little paw print, a sort of clue for Karkat to help him figure it out. He'd ended up showing the note to Terezi, who'd given you a pitying look, asking her if she'd written it. She'd told him no, and gone on to ask Vriska to the dance.

And you'd gone into that year's summer band with a lovesick heart.

The fall of junior year you spend working up the courage to ask Karkat out to prom. This was the first year you could go without an invite from an upperclassman, and you were determined to go with that stupid, grouchy albino. Equius helped you practice, and you felt like you were ready right around Valentine's Day.

Armed with a little orange tulip, you went to school that day with your courage wrapped around you tightly. When you found Karkat, he was in the band room telling Sollux that he was swearing off prom this year. Turns out Terezi had rejected him that morning. Optimism shattered, you tossed the flower in the trashcan. You spent prom with Equius watching movies at his house.

That summer you tried avoiding Karkat, but he always seemed to seek you out during breaks. Eventually you were so sick at heart of his innocent and gruffly worded questions that you had Equius run intervention for you. Senior year, you vowed, would be the year you got over Karkat Vantas.

You didn't attend any of the fall dances, and you got yourself involved in a couple other extracurricular activities. Equius got you a cat themed beanie for your birthday, which you wore when it started to get cold and even when it snowed. Your whole friend group (minus Feferi, Eridan, and Gamzee, who had all graduated) got together to play in the snow, knowing it wouldn't last long. Sollux made a few jokes about losing Karkat in the snow, and that eventually devolved into an eight-man snowball fight.

Classes started up again in January, bringing you back into contact with Karkat. It was a lot more painful after the three-week break (which you had spend out of state visiting family), and every conversation was like a knife in your heart. And then it was Valentine's Day, and you very matter-of-factly got everyone a corny little cat-themed valentine (though your heart raced when you gave Karkat his, and the way his face lit up with one of his short-lasting grins almost tore you in two).

You didn't ask anyone to prom, you didn't plan on going to prom, and really that was okay. Equius had mentioned hosting another movie marathon at his house, since he hadn't been asked or asked anyone himself, and that seemed really nice. You would enjoy that. You didn't need to go to prom, after all.

Except, the afternoon you were going to commit to going to Equius' house, you found a crumpled little note in your locker asking you to a private meeting after school. You talked it over with Equius, and with the assurance he'd be right outside the doors of the room you were supposed to go to, you decided to go after all.

No one was there, though there was a letter on the table. Attached were tickets and a very gruffly worded invitation to prom, signed with a little frowning face. And you cried, and you dragged Equius to the band hall. "Karkat!" You called, wiping tears from your face. "Karkat!"

He poked his head out of one of the practice rooms, face bright red with embarrassment. "Hey, Nepeta. You get my note?"

"I did," Nepeta said, smiling just like she'd done back on first day of summer band. "I'd love to go with you to prom."


	43. AutoResponderRoxy Br3

**Auto-Responder (hearts) Roxy: AU where Roxy has an iPhone, but instead of Siri she gets AR**

* * *

You find, when you're finally pulled from the box, that you're a birthday present. There's a chorus of "oh wow," and "happy birthday Roxy!" that just sort of happen in the background. There's one insistent male voice in the background chanting, "talk to Siri" over and over with a sort of pagan ritualistic fervor.

"So how do I use the voice feature again?" Her voice is hardly soft, and a little bit slurred, and despite it's lower pitch, he's never been more fascinated.

"Honestly, Roxy. It's like you've never had a smartphone before. Here," and he's jostled, and the new male with a voice like flint and steel presses cold fingers onto the home button. "You have to hold here and…" the beeps that activate voice mode click, and he prepares for an order, "Siri, look up – "

"Siri, look up how to bake a cake!" Another woman, much like the first although much less slurred. You don't particularly want to look that up though, so you throw the first shoddy recipe onto the screen.

"I found this, on the world wide web." You say, with a tongue in cheek sort of self-satisfaction at a job well done. If she tries that recipe, all she'll get is a flat flan. You don't particularly like being 'Siri,' so that's all she's getting.

"Janey," the one called Roxy says, words running together in her inebriation, "Please give me my phone." And he shifts again, this time back into warm hands. He likes these hands, despite their roughness and callouses. She puts him into a pocket, and he spends hours in there just running through various searches. He thinks he could get used to this. Beats being a prototype any day, that's for sure.

She takes him out of the pocket later, and from the lack of ambient voices he can tell that she's alone. "Okay Siri," she says, slur almost gone, "call me Rolal." She giggles, as if it's an inside joke. A quick Google turns up several Facebook that indicate that yes, it is an inside joke.

But hey, if the lady rolls that way, she rolls that way. You set your voice to your most suave and reply, "I'll call you anything you want, Rolal-babe-chan." And you purr, or as close to it as you can get to it, because the camera insists that little miss Rolal is one smoking hot lady.

"Just, uh…one thing." You say, when she finishes giggling. "I'm Hal. Li'l Hal. Not that Siri shit, okay sweetheart?" And you throw up an image of a dashing smile, since that's the best you can do. "Deal?"

"Deal, Li'l Hal-kun." Roxy says brightly, and you feel your circuitry warm. You really like her, against all the laws of AI and physics. You really do.


	44. EridanKarkat2 Br3

**Eridan (hearts) Karkat: AU where Eridan is a shapeshifter. Karkat buys a fish, the next day, there's a cat in his house. Eridan is annoying, especially when he's human.**

* * *

It had been Kanaya who had dragged him to the pet store, Kanaya who insisted he couldn't be alone in a house that big, Kanaya who'd literally handed him a gift card and shoved him through the doors. And it had been Kanaya who, in a very no nonsense sort of way, had let him know he wasn't leaving this store without a pet. So just to spite her, and her heartfelt good intentions, he bought the cheapest fish in the store.

It had been a bright violet, tiny guppy. Literally, it was the cheapest thing, at the high, high price of two dollars, in the entire store. Outfitting the thing with a bowl and amenities had been easy enough as well. Tiny fish didn't need huge bowls, so he managed to make it out of the store without spending too much of Kanaya's hard earned money. And then, violet guppy in bowl, Karkat relaxed in the comfort of his very spacious, depressingly empty family estate. He ended up watching hours of movies, until he fell asleep in the middle of _27 Dresses_.

The sensation of wet woke him up around three in the morning. Sputtering and flailing, mind still just asleep enough to make him think he was drowning, Karkat fell off his couch and onto the hardwood floor. "What the fuck?" Meowing unhappily, and loudly, on the floor where he'd clearly been dumped from Karkat's flailing, was a cat. A sopping wet cat. "God damn it!" Karkat swore, "I just got that fucking fish!"

Kanaya was going to kill him for letting that fish kick the bucket so soon. Angry and wet, he grabbed the mewling beast by the scruff of its neck and made to toss it outside. "I should fucking throw you back outside," Karkat grumbled. Suddenly the cat was heavier, and the sudden weight change threw him enough off balance that he dropped the cat and fell over with a curse.

"Whoa now, chief," said a very naked man, "Let's not be too hasty."

"…What the fuck."

"Now," mystery man intoned, "I know what you're thinking. Who is this sexy beast in my house? I'd let you guess, but really, I don't have time for you to call the cops on me. I'm Eridan, and I'm a shape shifter." He paused, probably for applause, or any reaction at all (he didn't get one). "I'm your fish?" He tried, still getting a blank stare. "Fuck it," Eridan declared, and proceeded to grind his naked self all over Karkat's still-wet body as he went in for hot and heavy make-outs.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Karkat screeched, and literally threw the strange fish-cat-man off him. "What the fuck?" Scrambling to his feet, he pointed one very accusing finger, "Who the hell do you think you are. Don't fucking touch me."

"Fine, whatever…" Eridan said, literally sulking. "I can take a hint." Turning back into a cat, he pranced out of sight. And calm returned to Karkat's house, albeit one hinging on the behavior of a shape shifting, sex deprived nymphomaniac, for the night. Because in the morning…

"Hey, gorgeous. Want a brother to help you out with that stiffy?"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!"


	45. BroBetaKids Br3

**Bro & Beta Kids: Bro Finds a meteor crater with four babies in it**

* * *

It wasn't a normal day at all. He was supposed to pick up one kid from a crater, raise him to save the world, and that would be it. Emphasis on one…not four kids, just one. Not two kids with hair blacker than midnight, and an extra blonde one, just one blond kid. That was what he'd been told, that was what he expected. He simply didn't have the materials to take care of four babies! But…he was a Strider, and let is not be said that Dirk Strider ever backed down from a challenge.

So he clambered down into the depression that used to be his favorite records store, scooped four diapered scamps into his arms (deftly tossing the little dead pony over his shoulder as he went), and made his way home without any fuss. Though that evening there was a bit on the news covering the sudden and unexpected destruction of one of Houston's best vintage stores, and a couple eyes witnesses (all coke-heads or other such street dwellers, and thus not exactly reliable) that claimed to have seen a broad shouldered man leave the crater with a pony and four babies.

The news anchors laughed at that, and so did he. Or well, he did until the deep sound of his chuckles woke the littlest one. "Hush, hush!" He soothed, rocking the little black haired boy. "Jesus, you guys really need names." He'd managed to outfit them all with shades, since protection from Li'l Cal was paramount, but he really hadn't thought about names. Christ, he needed two boy names and two girl names, and all he could think of for anybody was Dave.

So when he finally got the little nut-brown one to sleep, he rested his hand lightly on the newly dubbed Dave's belly. "Rest up little guy." And then he got to work. Pulling up baby names on the Internet was easy. Finding a name for the little green eyed, dark haired bratlette was…not so easy. In fact he found Rose's name first, ended up naming her for her eyes (a precious soft purple that reminded him of flowers, not that he'd tell anyone that).

And really, that was only half of them. By the time he'd gotten frustrated by not finding names for the other two, he'd already changed three diapers, fed two crying babies, and had to remove Li'l Cal from Dave's crib. To put it mildly, he was very, very tired, and accordingly grumpy.

"Seriously sprouts?" He asked, when at about six in the morning, Dave and little green-eyes managed to clamber out of their cribs, into his room, and then up onto his bed in order to bounce on his chest. "This is what you use your baby ninja skills for?" Dave made a noise not unlike a baby bird, and green-eyes babbled happily at him. And somewhere, in the other room, Rose started crying. This of course only set off little blue-eyes too, and then green-eyes and Dave started bawling like some sick fucking domino chain of teary-eyed toddlers.

It took him nearly a full hour to get them all calmed down again, and by that time he'd managed to find green-eyes a name: Jade. It was a little cliché, and he was pulling the same eye-color name shit he did for Rose, but hey. At least the kid had a name now. It took him another whole day to find blue-eyes a name, but eventually he settled on John. And between Dave, and John, and Rose, and Jade, and his budding puppet porn industry, his days were busy and time passed quickly.

And the next thing he knew, they were thirteen years old and saving the world, and he was literally the proudest bro in existence. He'd never tell them, but he'd never been prouder of his little men and special ladies. Never.


	46. EridanKarkat3 Br3

**Eridan (hearts) Karkat: Eridan is the immortal king of a dead kingdom that was razed to the ground, and Karkat is a wanderer who Eridan attempts to make his subject**

* * *

The country he was passing through wasn't pretty. Ash still hung in the air, and the burnt out skeletons of what had once been enormous trees still stuck out of the ground at odd angles. He would have avoided this place, this realm of sorrow and hatred, but going around it meant a two-week detour he didn't have time for. He had to make Kanaya's wedding, come hell or whatever Lowaa would throw at him.

It had been said that, under the reign of the last Ampora king, the land had been beautiful. The buildings, before they had been burned so that even their stone husks had collapsed inwards under their own weight, had been sweeping monuments to the glory of man-made architecture. The churches especially, had drawn the faithful and the curious alike, lending the forested hilly country a healthy industry derived from the tourism. In particular, the tradesmen had flourished, and the violet colored blown glass had become a trademark of the kingdom.

No one knew what had happened to make it change. Some suggested a witch's curse; others claimed it was a dark madness. Which one was closer to the truth, no one knew. All he knew was that the King disappeared, and the land had been plunged into chaos. The nobles had divided the country, fought each other for it, and eventually a raging inferno (rumored to have been started by a slighted dragon) had consumed everything and everyone.

A few said the land was still cursed, and Karkat couldn't refute it. Just walking through the kingdom's husk was unnerving, adding the movement he – sometimes – saw from the corners of his eyes was enough to make even him a believer in ghosts. And that was all he expected, aside from a pessimistic wariness against bandits. That's it. He knew there were weird shadows, sounds in the gloom, and creepy as all fuck environments courtesy of a dragon's fire, but he never expected to meet…him.

He'd stumbled upon it once, on a previous passing (he'd not believed the rumors of curses or madness then, he just wanted a shortcut), the rubble and majestic ruins of a castle. He found it again now, and this time curiosity got the better of him. He entered through the archway, a little nervous of its groaning, and trails fingers against walls blackened by soot. Twisted iron armors that had cooled in bizarre and grotesque shapes littered the floors, some having clearly been occupied at the time of the fire's height.

It was creepy, to say the least. And then he found the throne room, a blackened, dusty room with broken window glass littering the stone floors. The ashes of what must've once been a wooden throne, sat in the center of a raised dais next to a newer, wrought iron chair. Which by virtue of Lowaa being completely lifeless, of course freaked him the fuck out.

And then there was the not-quite skeleton that sat, in the shadows, on the chair. "Who dares?" Came a creaking voice, "Who dares?" The not-quite skeleton shifted, and when it stepped into the light, Karkat was surprised. "Who?" And the voice wasn't creaking, and the skeleton was just a man. "You?"

"Who the hell are you?" Karkat said, wondering how in the hell he managed to confuse a man with a skeleton. And the man cocked his head to the side, golden piercings catching the weak light that fell in through the shattered windows.

"Don't you know this place is cursed?" the stranger asked, voice commanding. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, striding forward. He halted himself just before Karkat, and stood so close their noses might touch. Karkat got a whiff of something nasty before the stranger pulled back just a bit, but he figured that he had imagined the smell.

"Shortcut," Karkat managed to say, voice tight with nerves, "My best friend is getting married on the coast." He thought he imagined the stern lines marring the stranger's forehead relaxing, and then the man nodded.

"I will see you to the edge of the forest." He said, with all the finality of a king. They walked together silently, and Karkat studied the stranger. He was tall, with noble features, and he had a peculiar violet streak in his shorn hair. But aside from that, he could have been anyone. And Karkat tried not to notice that whenever his companion stepped into the shadows, his silhouette returned to that of the skeleton.

"You know, I never did catch your name." Karkat grouched, mere leagues from the border and hours away from sundown. They were about to part ways, and besides quick questions and answer sessions, neither of the two had talked much. He sort of liked the silence, though after the first two hours it had become more unnerving than comforting.

"You may call me Eridan." He said, tone of voice indicating he was merely indulging Karkat. They walked in silence for another twenty minutes before Eridan came to a halt. "This is where I leave you. Fare thee well." And he turned on his heel, and moved off into the gloom.

"Wait!" Karkat said, more on impulse than anything. Eridan paused, and looked back at him expectantly. "I'm Karkat." And he smiled weakly at this strange man, who lived in a ruined country inside a decrepit castle, and wondered what he was doing. "I should…I could be coming back this way, in about two weeks. If you like."

The answering warble in Eridan's voice indicated a crippling sort of loneliness. "I will see you then, in a fortnight. In this place, I will be waiting." And he slipped back between the burnt out branches, disappearing from view. Karkat's pulse returned to normal, and he tried to remember why it was racing like he'd just come back from a life or death situation.

After the wedding, he returned through the forest like he'd promised, meeting up with his mysterious Lowaan friend. Most trips he took across the continent managed to take him through those skeleton forests, and Karkat managed to put the skeleton shadows from his mind. He made sure to always return to the forest, at the very least thrice a year, only to spend time with Eridan. He began to feel a little bit more than friendship for the man, and one day after several years of trips back and forth across the desolate kingdom, he went into the forest and never came out.

Some say that if you manage to find old King Ampora's castle, you'll now find two wrought iron chairs flanking the dust of what had been a wooden throne when before there was only one. Others say that the forest is haunted by the bone-walkers, the undead thralls of the curse that brought Lowaa to its knees. Still others say that before the king went mad he found the spell to immortality. Those that believe in that theory say the mighty dragon of Mount Pyrope was angered by the haughty king's hubris, and in retaliation burned his kingdom.

They say he still roams the halls of his castle, still as alive in death as he'd ever been. Variations of that say his true form, the form he should have taken when he was burned alive, only is visible in the shadows. The superstitious say he's lonely, that he takes companions and lovers indiscriminately from the unfortunate who stumble upon his ruined home.

Karkat should have listened to those stories.


	47. DaveTerezi Br3

**Dave (hearts) Terezi: Dave is the prince that blind dragon Terezi kidnaps, because all these monkeys look the same to the blind**

* * *

A fearsome roar and the unfortunate sound of his roof being ripped off the walls, just the average Sunday night stuff obviously, had rudely awakened Prince Dave. A menacing set of teal claws reached in from where his roof had once been, and snatched him up. A dragon, Dave had decided after getting a nice close up of the creature's eye, had come to kidnap itself a prince.

The resulting flight had been jarring and uncomfortable, as being in the grip of razor sharp talons tends to be, and they landed near a cave next to a smoking volcano. "Very cliché," Dave had said, looking around the place. The gold was stacked up to the ceiling, the floor had gouges from claws ripped into the bedrock, and the melted remains of swords were scattered amongst the treasure. "You couldn't have a more 'evil dragon' lair if you tried." He decried, as he relaxed into one of the more comfortable piles of gold.

This got him a smoky huff from said dragon, which actually appeared rather offended by the implied accusation. "Excuse you," the dragon retorted in a grumbling voice that reminded him of sulfur and explosions. "But I don't need décor tips from some puffed up drag princess." The creature gave a snort then, and smirked in a lipless sort of way. Red eyes stared into red eyes, and Dave had a sudden realization.

"You're blind, aren't you…" came out as more of a statement than a question, and his voice cracked low.

The beast hissed, "You're a boy."

"Yeah well, you missed my sister. She was in the other tower."

"Oh."

Both lapsed into silence, and after a few hours the dragon's breathing slowed and evened out. And so Dave spent a month playing companion to a dragon (a fledgling dragon, apparently named Terezi). He scratched at loose scales, played hide the ruby (she always won that game, claimed she could smell the saturated red of the gem), and told stories to each other late at night until he fell asleep curled up against her side. He grew fond of her, told her things he'd never told anyone and learned her secrets in return. They were exceedingly close, for dragon and kidnapped royalty.

He'll never admit it, but he cried after the knights came for him. He saw them coming and warned her, tried to get her to see sense. Words didn't work to convince her of the danger, so his stories of Sir Gamzee's dragon slaying exploits fell on deaf ears.

The Knight of Laughter slaughtered his beautiful dragon friend, and presented him with her conical horns…as a present. He scooped up her favorite ruby when as he was ushered out of the cave, clutched her teal-tinted horns to his chest, and tried to ignore the smell of copper and fire.

When he came of age and ascended the throne, he opened a new era of peace between dragonkin and humanity. He was said to have worn the horns of a dragon around his neck next to a bright red ruby. They said he never married, although he adopted an orphaned hatchling named Latula as his heir.


	48. KanayaBobbySinger Br3

**Kanaya & Bobby Singer: Post-Game AU where everyone is dropped on Earth, in different places. Bobby finds this strange alien girl with horns an, oh shit, she can use a chain saw, and he thinks he can grow to like her (Supernatural crossover)**

* * *

He found her in the middle of six or seven dead werewolves, all split in half (or down the middle, Jesus Christ) by the chainsaw in her hand. Not too strange, he'd met other hunters who used much more unorthodox weapons after all (one in particular named something like Sunny Han, a Korean girl with more brains than brawn that went after demons with blessed fishing nets of interwoven devils traps and holy water spray bottles). No, the weird part was her orange horns and how her skin literally glowed in the dark. She was like some fucked up sort of light bulb.

"Well, that sure makes my job easier." He said with a sort of nonchalance that hid his curiosity. "Need any help with the cleanup, sweetheart?" And she sort of glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, clearly sizing him up for a possible threat. "Or are you not done with the bodies?"

She bared her fangs at him, but since they didn't look like an actual set of vampire's teeth (just sort of like they belonged on a very gimmicky Hollywood set, those canines were that elongated) he didn't feel very threatened, and literally turned her chainsaw into a tube of lipstick.

"…Well that's new." Bobby said after a he swallowed down a noise of confusion and shock. And then he cracked his knuckles and started dragging the bodies (and body parts) into piles, eventually setting them on fire. Mystery horn-girl kept a stern eye on him the entire time, and reminded him altogether too much of the young and skittish Winchester boys back when they were fresh from their father's personal warfronts.

So he set his expression into a mild grimace and turned to her, "Look, how old are you? Are you even twenty?" Her look of blank confusion was followed by a terse shake of her head in the negative, had him scowling in truth. "Idjit."

"Excuse me?" She said, taken aback. Then she drew herself up and practically blazed in anger, "I'll have you know these pawbeast-humans smell like my friends. I will not leave them to be torn to shreds, I will not." By the end of her rant, she was a hissing, canines and her other sharpish teeth catching the bioluminescence of her skin.

A corner of Bobby's mouth ticked upward against his will, and he moved closer without thinking. Putting his hand on the top of her head, he sighed. "Okay, I know some guys, we'll help you find your friends. It'll be okay, kid. Especially with those combat skills." And he let himself smile, as the touch visibly relaxed her. A quick phone call and a smile later, and he thrust his hands deep into his jean pockets. "Okay kid, let's go get your friends."

"My name is Kanaya."

"Mine's Bobby, and the two idjits we're gonna end up meeting are Dean and Sam. Now, mind telling me what in Sam Hill your get-up is for?" Oh, he liked this lipstick wearing, chainsaw massacring little lady. He really did.


	49. AutoResponderRoxy Br4

**Auto-Responbder (hearts) Roxy: Trope- Throwing pebbles at a window: Humanstuck, AR throws pebbles at Roxy's window at night to try and get her to sneak out with him**

* * *

Roxy Lalonde was not the sort of girl that was unprepared for pebbles flung against her window. She was a very pretty, very smart girl. And her best friend had a _thing_ for old movies with really cliché shtick like that. The sort of _thing_ that meant every time they went out at night, there were always pebbles thrown at her window to get her attention. It was tradition.

So yeah, she was very familiar with pebbles and windows and late nights and sneaky revelry. And so were the Striders, the very Texan, extended family that lived next door. The eldest, Dirk, tended to cross paths with her (and Jane-y, of course) whenever they snuck out…Apparently Dirk had a secret boyfriend.

The youngest Strider was Dave, youngest being a relative term (the age gap was only like three or so years), and while Jane might be crushing on him, Roxy found herself drawn to Dirk's identical twin brother Hale "Li'l Hal" or just "Hal" Strider. She'd only met the quieter half of the Strider twins once, though they saw each other often enough in the halls of school. He was cute, and he was funny, and she really, really liked him.

In fact, she liked him enough that even Jane had picked up on her crush (and then proceeded to tease her about it). But yeah, tonight was her night. Tonight she was going to sneak out the front door, sidle on over to the Strider's house, throw rocks at Hal's window, suavely offer him a drink, and together they'd ride off into the sunset all lovey-dovey and maybe with some smooches. That would be nice.

Simply smoothing out the skirt of her favorite dress one more time, just to be sure she wasn't looking rumpled when she pulled Hal out of his slumber, she slipped out of her room. She had to take the stairs slowly, because their house was older and the steps creaked if she moved too quickly, but she got to the front door without waking up her mother, her aunt, or her younger sister.

Cracking the door open, she checked behind her out of paranoia, but once reassured she was the only one moving in her house, she escaped. Stifling manic giggles, Roxy kept her gaze firmly locked over her shoulder. Unfortunately, she didn't see where she was going, and ran into something solid and ended up falling backwards with a loud shriek.

"Dirk?" She asked, flat on her back, as she caught sight of patent Strider shades.

"Hal." Came the answering groan, from the familiar shadow that had also been knocked on his ass.

"What are you doing in my yard?"

Hal tossed her a pebble, "Was going to ask you something." Roxy's heart leapt, and her face warmed in a blush. "Wanna go to a movie? With me?" Roxy broke into a beaming grin, and nodded happily even though he couldn't see it.

"Yes! I mean, yeah. That'd be great!"


	50. KankriCronus Br4

**Kankri (hearts) Cronus: Trope- preacher's son falls in love with the "bad boy"**

* * *

Your name is Kankri, Kankri Vantas. You'll be eighteen in July, and you go off to university in August. Your father is a preacher, and your mother is a kindly schoolteacher, and you hope to maybe follow in his footsteps and become a preacher as well. You've sworn off of drinking and sex, along with parties. You swore in front of your mother, might your testicles be torn off if you disappoint her, and your stern, mildly approving father. You hope this sets a good precedent for your younger brother, Karkat.

The months fly by, and so does your birthday. You're eighteen and the campus is large, larger than life and lies. There are thousands of bodies cramming the roads and walkways, and you're so confused and disoriented. You manage to maneuver your bags and your other things into your dorm (co-ed, despite your father's best attempts). Your roommate isn't there yet, but you're sure he'll show soon. He was apparently also slated to move in today, but you're just not sure when.

But his tardiness is your luck, and you claim the bottom bunk without his input. It's hardly fair, but after braving the sweltering, frustrated masses, your sense of fair play is weaker than your desire for a nap. Nearly two hours later and you've turned that bottom bunk into a fort, blankets hung from the top bunk's rails to box it in and pillows and comforters to make the inside cozy. The rest of your things have been neatly and efficiently filed and folded and put away, and you ignore the twinge of guilt as you climb into bed and fall into an uncomfortable doze.

"Well now," a gravelly voice says, grating southern drawl prominent. The speaker smells like smoke and booze, and his head throbs in time to the exasperated huffs. "You sure look comfy, Chief. Why, it's almost like you didn't wait for your dear roomy." You want to roll over and moan at him, like he's Karkat waking you up for some stupid movie, but at least you have more dignity than that.

With as much grace as you can muster, you roll out of your cave. "Sorry, it was a long drive." He scoffs at you, coifed hair black and slick with grease. He wears leather and pants tighter than sin. You wrinkle your nose at him, and immediately afterwards hope it came across less offensively than it was meant. You hold out your hand, and smile winningly, "Kankri Vantas, freshman and Theology major. Who're you?"

"Cronus," he says, corner of his mouth twisting up into a smirk that sets your heart pounding and an uncomfortable tension in your loins that sparks fear in the back of your mind. "Cronus Ampora, second year Engineering student." _Oh no_, you think, as your heart rate slowly returns to normal. All those vows suddenly loom over your head like the sword of Damocles, and your father's grim visage swims in your mind's eye (it's contorted in disappointment).

You laugh nervously, and swear his eyes sparkle in return.


	51. DadMom Br4

**Dad/Mom: Trope- old movies, when two characters have sex, the camera pans to the curtains before the scene fades out**

* * *

"Roxy!" he called as he ran over, all lanky limbs and dorky smile, sixteen and still in love with life. "Roxy, let's go see a movie. You'll never guess what came out last night!" He panted, a little out of breath and sweaty (Mama Jane's cakes were not a recipe for stellar stamina, but being fresh from tennis practice probably wasn't helping either). "It's only the movie you've been talking about for forever!" He teased, small smirk coming to rest on his face.

She pretended to think about it, "Oh, whatever could it be? Surely, Mr. Egbert, you wouldn't be talking about _The Blue Lagoon_? Why, I would never want to see such a sinful movie." She batted her eyelashes here, gleefully ignoring her best friend's mildly exasperated sigh. "Oh fine," she said, and Roxy dropped the unnecessary southern belle accent, returning to the slight slur of her extremely northern accent. "You know I've been itching to see that one."

"That's why I got the tickets to the drive-in, Roxy." Hugh Egbert said with a sort of tongue-in-cheek self-satisfaction. Roxy jokingly swooned ("My hero!"), and they laughed for a while before parting with a promise to meet up by six. Of course nothing is that simple, however.

"…Wasn't this supposed to be a movie about an _island_?" Hugh whispered in dismay, wrapping his arm around Roxy's shoulders. They were seated too close together for any chaperone to be comfortable, but as they were alone in Roxy's beat up Chevy, that was hardly a concern. He had an almost scandalized scowl on his face, and his grey eyes were scrunched up as his expression twisted into disgust.

"I don't know," Roxy whispered back, "I think I like it." Her eyes weren't so much watching the big screen as much as they were focused on Hugh, and it made the pit of his stomach warm. She leaned in slowly, and his breath hitched. Their lips slowly touched together, and he could feel his heart rate skyrocketing.

"Roxy," he murmured, eyes flickering to the old noir film playing on the large screen, but quickly reprioritized when her hand touched low on his hip. He stuttered, nonsensical protests not making it past his lips, as his eyes flew everywhere but to the hint of cleavage pressing into his chest. He was nervous, so nervous. "What about the movie?"

"Screw the movie," she purred, and trailed her fingertips along his body until she could fist her hands in the fabric of his shirt. And she leaned in to kiss him with passion. She fitted herself into the contours of his body, and sighed contently into his embrace when he reciprocated.

In the background, the private eye of the noir film kissed his dame fair as they rolled over onto a bed, and the camera panned up to focus on the floral printed drapes.


	52. AutoResponderRoxy2 Br4

**Auto-Responder/Roxy: Trope- A is an experiment, locked up to be studied and B is the sympathetic scientist**

* * *

The tiny cell you live in is cold and bare. The ceilings, walls, and floors are all the same shade of damp concrete, the bed is a flat metallic slab that is graced by the most uncomfortable mattress in existence, and the view from the window (a grassy garden with flowers) is ruined by the thick, black iron bars that form a grate. Plus the food reminds you of mushed brains, the kind that get a full five seconds of horrific, glorified screen time in zombie movies.

Life as a scientific experiment is a blessing.

The first few months you pulled the silent treatment. Surly, quiet, and the opposite of cooperative, you threw food at the orderlies, flipped the bird at the observing scientists, and once you think you managed to moon the owner of the lab. All that got you was a straightjacket and an IV drip though, so after you were finally released from the self-hug jacket from hell, you lightened up. You grumbled and you pushed your shitty food around the plate, and tried not to think to hard about exactly what they wanted from your hot, mutant ass.

Probably had something to do with the fact you could fly (sort of like superman). No, don't think about it.

Then there was the new face. A pretty girl with pale, rosy highlights in her hair. She smiled when she saw you, and you had to swallow down the pounding of your heart when your eyes met. She brought you sandwiches, and ice cream (and once smuggled you an honest-to-goodness hamburger, bless her science-ridden heart), shoved newspapers into the elastic band of your undies during examinations (though not once did her hand slip down to cop a feel of your majestic gluteus maximus, mores the pity)

Her name was Roxy and she was an angel.

One night, when she assured you that the cameras were off, she asked to see you fly. You indulged her by floating about two inches off the ground with your arms spread wide in a gesture of 'aren't I the hottest thing?' She smiled broadly at you and laughed, elated. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked you, face serious although her cheeks were still bright from her laughter.

"Of course!" You promise. You would burn the world to the ground for this woman.

She smiled sadly and disappeared. Shocked, you leapt back and scoured the room for her. She couldn't have gotten far! She reappeared, leaning against the wall. Her eyes were sad; her empty smile didn't ring true. "I'm sorry," she murmured, as she closed the distance between you. "I'm so sorry."

She pressed her lips to yours, and the world around you exploded. A man who looked exactly like you dug you out of the rubble, super strength lending him the power to toss pieces of concrete like paper. He yelled something to a dark-haired girl behind him, who nodded and moved close.

"What about Roxy?" You scream, your ears still ring from the explosion, you aren't aware of how loud you're being. "You can't leave her in there!"

"I'll get her," your dour doppelganger says with a smirk. "Jane! Get the target out of here!" The dark-haired girl nods, and the next thing you know you're coughing dust into a carpet.

Jane teleports, Roxy turns invisible, your doppelganger (apparently named Dirk) is super-strong. You can fly, and you later learn that their friend Jake caused the explosion. You're all special. You're all 'freaks.' They saved you. You're part of their team now.

And Roxy…Roxy made it out alive. A piece of the wall clipped her shoulder, so she has a vibrant red scar marring her back, but she's okay. You love her, and you're pretty sure she loves you.

That doesn't stop her from trying to figure out what exactly makes you all so different from regular humans though. But, you figure that's just part of her charm. That scientist shtick wasn't really an act after all.


	53. DaveKarkat Br4

**Dave & Karkat: Trope- Good Cop/Bad Cop**

* * *

"Look, I don't want this to be hard on you." He says, leaning over the steel table to smile winningly at her. "I mean, that would be ass, wouldn't it? Just all sort of ass, if this was hard on you. The worst sort of ass, the kinds of ass that smells like shit and looks like moldy cheese, and it tastes like moldy feet. You dig? I just want to make this easy, you know? For you! Let us help you."

Rose blinks, unimpressed by her sort-of brother's "winning" smile and "good-guy" vibe.

"Or," Karkat grumbles, loudly. "We can do this the hard way. You want to know what the hard way is, Lalonde? Well, I'll fucking tell you. Oh, I'll fucking tell you." He takes a deep breath in, and begins. "The hard way is you, skipping your way straight to fucking hell. You'll breathe in, and your head will pound, your shame-center will be operating about one million times more efficiently than it would otherwise.

"You'll be digging in your heels, only to find the ground is not the safe realm of happy dreams and fucked up ambition, but the cold, loving dick of disappointment and the unwelcome stench of depression. Your think your heart aches now? Well just wait until it's beset by the knowledge of how utterly ashamed of you everyone is.

"Well Lalonde, are you prepared for the consequences? Or shall I continue?"

Rose groans, her head pounding. She rests her head on her arms, grateful for the relief from the light, and wishes she had something to block out the sound of Karkat's near screaming.

"Oh, good job dick-munch, you're making her hangover worse!"

"Whatever, Strider. It wouldn't even be a problem if you'd manhandled your balls into prime rodeo position, stepped up and taken care of your sister. If she hadn't come to the point of blackout drinking, we wouldn't even be in this situation! It's your fucking fault that your sister came to this point! You should be the one whose shame melts you and turns you into a puddle of shitty drunk!

"Rose doesn't deserve your shitty attitude, Dave!" Karkat growls, turning on his "partner."

Dave makes noises of protest, but Rose tunes them both out. She crawls into her bed, three rooms away, pulls the comforter above her head, and wishes she could disappear. That, or that Dave would give up his good-cop/bad-cop team with Karkat and just accept that she was an alcoholic in the making.

She didn't think she could take too many more of Dave's ineffectual "interventions."


	54. EridanKanaya Br4

**Eridan & Kanaya: Trope- Dying Curse**

* * *

In another world, another timeline, Eridan kills her and destroys the matriorb. In that same timeline, Kanaya comes back and kills him (but much more permanently). In this one, Eridan is much less desperate and much less hateful. He doesn't kill Feferi out of rage and despair, but in self-defense when she tries to avenge Sollux (who had succumbed to a violent, unhealthy caliginous urge and had attempted to kill Eridan).

And then when Kanaya had, mistakenly, attempted to stop what she had perceived as a threat…he'd blasted her, carved a hole in her middle with the wand she'd helped alchemize.

He holed himself up in an empty room, afterwards, with violet tears staining his cheeks. "Oh God," he murmured, staring at his hands. They were covered in mingled jade and fuchsia, from where he'd tried to stem the bleeding he'd caused. As the fluids dried, it became apparent that he might never get the crusted jade out from under his fingernails. "Oh God." He'd killed them both. He'd…He'd–

Eridan stifled another sob, and tried not to remember exactly what Kanaya had said to him, as he was wrist deep in her innards. Snot and tears had covered his face, and she'd bared fangs at him and _snarled_. She'd…she'd said such horrible things to him, even as he'd wrapped his scarf around the gaping wound in a doomed attempt to keep her from bleeding out.

"Kan," he'd whispered hoarsely, "Kan, oh my cod, I'm so sorry."

"You…idiot." She'd said, anger and hatred very nearly dripping from her words. Her hands curled into claws, and she'd dug her nails into his thighs. "Scum," she'd called him, and she'd bitingly noted that, "Feferi would be ashamed of you." She'd coughed, and jade had bubbled up at the corners of her mouth. And they'd both ignored his embarrassing sobs, even as his body shook with the force of them.

This timeline's Eridan was, in Karkat's words, a "big fucking piss-baby."

"I hate you so much." Kanaya had admitted, fingers twitching towards that tube of lipstick he knows hides her deadly chainsaw. "I hope you suffer, every day…for this." He'd scowled, but then he'd winced when she'd tightened her death grip on his thighs. "You take the matriorb to Karkat. Don't forget…"

She'd shuddered, death throes taking hold, and she'd screamed his name and cursed him. He'd captchalogued the matriorb, and he'd run from her. And that was that. And now he sat in this dark and empty room, tears still streaming from his ducts, blubbering like some sissy fuckin' baby, holding his cape around him like it might keep him from falling apart.

As if he hadn't fallen apart already. As if Kan's hatred didn't haunt him even now, especially when he looked at his sylladex. As if…she was still cursing him even now. "Scum," he choked out, and Kanaya echoed it in his mind.

"Scum. Ingrate." Her voice spat, and Eridan curled in on himself. She was still cursing him.


	55. AradiaJohn Br4

**Aradia (hearts) John: Trope- Ancient Artifact**

* * *

It wasn't your everyday sort of excavation. No…it was more important than that. It was the sort of excavation that would lend credence to that theory she'd been thinking about forever! It was going to change the world; it was going to revolutionize anthropology forever! She was going to –

"Aradia, it's time for dinner."

"O-kay!" Aradia chimed back, six years old and covered in dirt. Clutching her shovel to her chest, she ran inside from where she'd been digging. "But," she complained with a sort of somber seriousness that only the young could pull off, "I was just about to make a _huge_ discovery! I was going to find something that would change the world, Damara!"

Her elder sister looked at her askance, "You've been digging in Mom's tulips again, haven't you."

"Only a little?"

"Eat your macaroni." Damara said flatly, before disappearing outside to run damage control. Aradia wilted, suddenly remembering how angry their mother had been the last time she "ruined the garden." She sighed, dug into the food her sister had made, and kicked her feet against the chair legs as she thought about what she'd do tomorrow.

Turns out, tomorrow didn't hold too much for her. She'd been grounded, and was stuck in her room most of the day. It was boring.

The next day though she was back out in the yard, though this time she kept to the sand box. Excavations went smoothly, and she unearthed several toys she'd once deemed lost. Like that seahorse doll she'd stolen from the nerd next door, or the cute little plastic bees she and Sollux played with sometimes. And then there was the pretty necklace!

She wasn't sure where it came from but if it was in the sandbox, well regardless of whose it used to be, it was hers now. She pulled the chain over her head, and admired the way the light blue rhinestone glinted in the sunshine. It wasn't a color she was overly fond of, her favorite was of course maroon, but it was pretty. "Hey! That's mine!"

Aradia blinked, and looked up. A boy in bright blue pajamas scowled down at her from on top of her fence. "What?"

"That necklace! It's mine. I put it there."

"Oh! Sorry then!" She moved to pull it from around her neck, but found it wouldn't come up past her ears. It was like the chain had shrunk or something since she'd put it on. "Um…"

"What?"

"It's stuck…"

"…" The boy pouted, and then climbed down off the fence and joined her in the sandbox. "Oh…" They stared at each other, neither sure of what to say. "Guess I'll just have to follow you around until the curse wears off, huh?"

"Curse?"

"My best friend's sister likes to think she's a dark god. She probably cursed it as some sort of joke." He smiled, and revealed that he was missing some baby teeth. "I'm John, God of Mischief."

"I'm Aradia! Human Archeologist."

Turns out, no one else could see John. He followed her around, true to his word, laughing at his own jokes and smiling mischievously whenever he caused Aradia to snicker. He pantsed Damara once, and got Aradia in so much trouble with her sister. He'd laughed forever about that.

Then Aradia was sixteen. The necklace still sat around her neck, and to tell the truth, she'd quite forgotten about it. She'd stopped trying to take it off, to be honest. The teenaged god that followed her around though? Oh no, she'd never forget him.

"What's on the agenda today, Megido?" He asked, floating blatantly so that he could read over her shoulder. They'd both grown, but none quite as much as John. He'd quite come into his godhood, and even exuded a sort of powerful aura that even her family could feel.

"Well, classes of course. It is a Tuesday, after all." Aradia replied, flipping the page of the National Geographic magazine with a sort of nonchalance that only came from years of familiarity with John's odd habits. John groaned, and it sounded suspiciously like "boring."

"When are we going to do something fun? Like that one trip to that huge cave system? When are we going back? That place was fun!"

"Never. They banned my family from that national park for your breaking that stalactite, remember?" He groaned again, and flipped over in mid-air. He hovered over her, resting his chin on the top of her head, and hummed a tune only he knew.

"Aradia, I'm bored. Entertain me."

"Go read a book." Aradia deadpanned, still engrossed in an article on mummification.

"What if we make out?" John said, suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

"Not while my family is home, you remember the rules."

"Lame!" The god declared, drawing out the vowels to help illustrate his disenchantment.

Aradia smiled impishly, knowing full well Damara was asleep in the other room, and that her mother wouldn't be home until six. Even the god of mischief could be toyed with, after all.

But she wouldn't be a very good girlfriend to a god though, if she couldn't keep up with him.


	56. KankriKarkat Br4

**Kankri (diamonds) Karkat: Trope- Heroic Sacrifice; As all hope is lost and the players face defeat, the Blood aspect finally activates. However it's power is neither bonds or disease. Rather it acts as a sacrifice to recreate a special kind of scratch that results in all players but those of Blood to live safe lives. As far as Karkat and Kankri are considered, it's worth the sacrifice.**

* * *

Terezi should have told him it was dangerous. Terezi should have said many things. She didn't, and couldn't, because she was dead. So many of Karkat's friends were dead. Vriska, Tavros, Aradia…Sollux, Feferi, Eridan…Nepeta and Equius…even Kanaya. It was just he, and Gamzee and his dancestor, Kankri.

Kankri had picked up the ring from a newly re-dead Aranea, and taken her place in the physical world. It was just the three of them, along with the remaining living humans, against Bec Noir and Lord English. Eridan would have said it was hopeless ("and as the prince a hope, I'm qualified to knoww!"), and he would be right. It was hopeless.

Gamzee dies in the first wave of attack. His previous neglect of his health made him fragile. Kankri and Karkat bleed heavily, matching vibrant red rivulets dripping from wounds. John falls in the distance, a heroic death. He took a mortal hit for Rose. Dave goes berserk, his screams echoing oddly as it's joined by the voices hundreds of matching, grieving Daves.

Jade is already dead, a death manipulated by Aranea to be considered "just." Roxy and Dirk lie dead, side-by-side, heroically killed taking down Bec Noir. There's just Lord English left, now. And the going isn't pretty. Kankri is crippled easily, legs crushed. He lives, barely, because Jane takes his place in LE's beam of death. It's a heroic move, so she doesn't come back.

Rose dies and revives four times before she takes a hit for the original Dave. That one is heroic. Karkat screams, not from the pain of his wounds but because it's too much, there are too many of his dead friends littering the ground. There are fewer and fewer duplicate Daves running around, time may be his aspect but Lord English is a master.

Kankri screams on the other side of the battlefield, crushed legs barely visible through the specters of his own friends. The ghosts of Meenah, and Porrim and everyone else scream as well. Lord English knew exactly which spot to hit.

And then they feel it. The pulse of their blood in their veins, the sense of bonds and broken bodies and loyalty overwhelms the pain of their wounds. They aren't god tier, there is no way that they can overcome LE on their own. But they don't have to. Blood isn't just the aspect of bonds and disease and loyalty, no it is an aspect of sacrifice.

They bleed together, eyes glowing with power. Somewhere in paradox space, a rip in time and space opens, and sucks in the universe. It sucks in every universe. The world they know ceases to be, and Lord English shrieks his rage at being thwarted, as he stands alone in an empty session.

A lifetime away, seven-year-old Terezi Pyrope laughs at a joke her sister Latula tells her. Sollux and Mituna Captor scream at each other over Mario Kart 8, as Aradia and Kurloz watch and laugh. Meenah beats Eridan and Vriska at poker, and Damara and Tavros watch cute little cartoons as Rufio and his boyfriend Horuss make out in a different room.

Their lives are happy. Their lives are safe.

Jade and Feferi play dress-up games with stuffed octopi and cuttlefish. Rose and Kanaya go on their first date. Dave and John and Dirk and Roxy marathon a million terrible movies, and Jane and Jake and the others participate in a community play. And no one even knows what their happiness cost them.

Karkat and Kankri don't regret a single thing, even if they miss out on the best of it. They have their memories, and they get to watch their friends grow up. And to them? That's more than enough.


	57. MindfangRedglare

**Mindfang/Redglare: Trope- Screw This, I'm Outta Here! (In which Mindfang sees her fleet go up in dragon fire)**

* * *

It was the muffled, echoing shriek and the swiftly growing silhouette on the horizon that tipped her off first. Peering through her glass at what could only be Pyralspite, the Marquise swore violently. "Fuck everything!" In a motion that could only be described as murderous, she leapt off the forecastle in the midst of her crew.

"We're getting out of here, you logs! As fast as we can!"

Her fleet turned around slowly. Not all of her ships were designed for speed, after all. There were a few junks meant specifically for hauling bounty, and more were built for holding cannon and weapons. So her personal ship and another four or so pulled far ahead of her lagging fleet, increasing their respective distances to the furious dragon lusus and its rider even as it drew closer to the remaining vessels.

The fire first touches a ship that's carrying explosives. You know this because the flames paint the ocean orange, and then the explosion of the ship sends wooden splinters everywhere. The force of the blast even sends part of a jib into the mast. Parts of the other ships have caught fire, and despite their crews' best efforts you know that they won't be putting the flames out in time.

Redglare will be on them before they have the chance.

She hates to cut her fleet loose like this, to sacrifice them to Reglare's fiendish draconic fire, but she values her own skin above all else. There will be other ships, other bounty, and other opportunities. And Marquise Mindfang will rise above the loss of her ships, of her crews and slaves and bounty, and return ready for vengeance and the plunder.

But for now she would flee, flee and bide her time and strength. Despite her fortitude and resourcefulness, she had as of yet at least, no chance of survival against a fire breathing dragon. Her best shot in the dark for a weapon capable of stymieing the behemoth still needed a few perigrees, so for now she would run.

Mindfang watched with contempt and a degree of mournful sorrow as her entire fleet (sans the four others who were fast enough to keep up with her own ship) went up in flames. The shadow of the dragon flew circles around burning wreckages, screeching as it went.

Redglare would pay in blood for the losses Mindfang incurred today. This wasn't over.


	58. DirkAutoResponder Br4

**Dirk & Auto-Responder: Trope- Platforming Pocket Pal**

* * *

LAVG can be a bit more intense than it's cousin LARP. Live Action Video Gaming tends to only be as in depth and creative as its creator, and Dirk is masterful at everything he does. The world he creates is a rolling paradise of hills and mountains, lakes, and quaint towns on the banks of lazy rivers. AR couldn't help himself…he hacked himself in.

"Don't you think it's a little weird that you made yourself an incredibly sexy, aged up avatar, considering that you actually have the bedroom appeal of a pre-pubescent, acne-riddled preteen?"

"Oh my God, AR." Dirk shrieked, voice still as high pitched as it was in the real world. "You hacked my game!" He accused, artificially broadened shoulders hunching as he crossed his beefy arms. The shades are still there, but the hair is lighter, the skin darker, and the muscles outrageous. AR imagined there might be a budding sexuality hidden in the code that designed that particular combination of traits, but since he was a robot (and thus asexual by default, discounting his dirty sense of humor) he didn't really care.

"Of course I did." AR responded, still fidgeting with his own physical representative's coding. "I'll be your guide, your intrepid sidekick, even. It'll be "the tits," Dirk." AR finally settled on a humanoid form, but gave him a mottled circuit-y skin, all red and silver and black. He let his eyes stay luminescent red, and gave himself a hairstyle reminiscent of Dirk's IRL one. "How do I look?" Came AR's voice, suddenly mechanical.

"I can be the ghost of your mentor, inhabiting this cool almost-flesh-bot."

"Oh. Hell. No." Dirk said adamantly, stomping his foot in a fit of childish anger. "You can't stay in here with me, AR."

"But then who's going to help you get through the lava maps? Or what about the raging river level? I mean I'd hate for you to die before you can rescue Princess Jake!" AR states innocently. The AI's avatar pouts, face frozen in an expression of trepidation and concern.

Dirk stares at AR hard, trying very hard not to lose his temper. "You messed with the programming." AR smirks back, very obviously not at all sorry. "Fine, whatever. You can be the Navi to my Link then." He grudgingly admits, all tense lines and stiff-backed resistance.

"Hey, man. As long as you Listen! I mean, so you can Watch Out, for all the Danger I'll be warning you about."

"Oh my God, AR. Just shut up."


	59. CalliopeRoxy Br5

**Calliope/Roxy: "Could you please listen to this selfish request of mine? Please... don't forget about me." - Ennis (Baccano!)**

* * *

She stares at the walls (the walls are white). She watches out the windows (her window overlooks a parking lot). She breathes in time to the ambient noise (it's the sound of her heartbeat and the beeping of her vitals). A hospital is a lonely place.

She's lonely, she gets no visitors, and she knows her nurses by their first names but only ever addresses them like that with the accompaniment of a Mrs./Mr. Her brother never comes to see her, and she's glad about it (he helped put her in here). She has neighbors in this hospital, neighbors she is familiar with and fond of.

Dave is a permanently scowling preteen who talks softly and constantly, but always shows up exactly at noon to enjoy a lunch with his brother, Dirk (she doesn't know exactly why Dirk is in here, but he never takes off his glasses and he has bandages around his wrists). Jane lives down the hall (she cries every time she sees baked goods, for some reason), and is often visited by her cousin John (a nice young man). Jake rooms with Dirk (he sees things, she hears, things that aren't real).

They're all nice people, and the fact that they're in here with her makes her so sad.

Rose is her roommate (she said she's here because she picked up her sister's alcoholism, you didn't know that could be transferred like that). She likes her; she's snarky and soft under a shield and vest of bulletproof Plexiglas. She's complex, but she likes her.

She just likes her sister more (as horrible as that is).

Roxy is a ray of sunshine in the hospital (everyone is gray and gloomy and so cracked and broken). She strides into her room, smiles and laughs and smuggles juice and other foods not available to the patients in, just so she can give them to Rose.

And Roxy always makes sure to give her something, be it a juice box or a hug or a chocolate bar (Roxy's visits always brighten her day). Roxy remembers all the little things she tells her. Even the bits about how her favorite color is pink, and that her best friend growing up was a girl named Jade. Roxy always remembers.

"Roxy?" She asks, voice timid. Rose is being discharged today. The bed Rose has been sleeping in for weeks is stripped bare, the yarn and books and colorful scarves all packed away make that corner of the room seem grim and lonely.

"Yeah, Callie?"

"Please don't forget me."


	60. DaveJade Br5

**Dave (hearts) Jade: "You are so beautiful when you sleep, but it's getting kind of old. Please wake up." -A Softer World**

* * *

"Jade, wake up!" Dave stage whispers right in her ear, she blindly pushes her hands into his face to get some space. When she opens her eyes, he's propped himself up on one arm, and is smiling at her warmly. "Do you hear that?" he asks, and nods towards the hallway outside their room. Sure enough, there is giggling and the pitter-patter of little feet.

"As much as I hate to wake you up," he says, and her face warms at his very open affection, "since you're such practically sleeping beauty, all pretty and at peace and stuff, our little wigglers are out there tearing up our Santa shit." This of course wakes her up. In a flurry of hair and limbs, Jade is up, and out of bed, and dressed.

"Dave," she says with a beaming smile, "It's Christmas!" Her excited voice must've carried into the hallway, because the next thing Dave knows, his beautiful wife and twin children have dog piled themselves on top of him.

They chant, "Christmas, Christmas!" with wild abandon, and he's vaguely reminded of that one horrible movie with the cults and the deaths and wow, does he love his family.

"Come on, Dad!" One of his little ankle biters insists, grabbing his arm and trying to literally pull him from the bed. "Christmas. That means _presents_."

"Yeah, Dad!" The other one echoes, grabbing his ankle and assisting the first in pulling him off his comfortable spot.

"Yeah, Dave! It _snowed_!" Jade adds, before literally picking him up in a fireman's carry. "Lazybones, you can't stay in bed when it's _snowing_. And _presents_! Let's go be Santa!"

Dave laughs, and something along the lines of "fuck it, let's be Santa" is muttered into Jade's ear. He keeps it low, so the kids don't hear him swearing, but Jade nearly drops him, she laughs so hard.

Once in the living room, Jade puts him down and throws her arms over his shoulders. "I love you." They share a chaste kiss, though the kids still pretend to gag in the background. Dave is warm to the tips of his toes, buoyed up with a sense of completeness and by the affection he holds for his family.

He wants to wrap this moment around him, keep it safe forever, and look on it and know he was loved. But it isn't real. He opens his eyes.

"Dave, please…" Jade sobs over his chest. "Dave, I'm so sorry, please wake up." He coughs, and gives her a smirk as he pushes his glasses back up his nose. The smile might be a little off; when he looks at Jade he still sees that version of her he married and had children with.

"What, can't a guy get a little beauty sleep?"

"Dave, you were dead!" Jade wails, crushing him again in a hug that gives him déjà vu. "You were dead for five minutes!"

"Beauty sleep, Jade. That's all." He soothes, trying to push the alternate timeline memories from his mind. "Just beauty sleep."


	61. Dave and TereziVriska Br5

**Dave & Terezi/Vriska: "Those alien bastards are gonna pay for shooting up my ride." - Duke Nukem, _Duke Nukem 3D_.**

* * *

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Oh man. Oh shit, oh fucking shit. Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ on a Goddamned Fucking Cracker. _Oh man._ God, you are so fucked right now. Fucked up the ass with sandpaper and three or four of Bro's fucking smut puppets. With _sandpaper_. There is literally no way you're coming out of this alive.

Goddammit, that was _Bro's _motorcycle. You weren't even supposed to have touched it, let alone driven it out to a party. And now here you are, in butt-fucking Ohio, after Rose's twenty-first birthday party, with a completely trashed motorcycle. Someone took keys to it, Jesus Christ. And whoever did it, slashed the tires too! Shit, you're so dead.

And they tagged it, not that it's going to help you find the culprits at all. Now the remnants of Bro's baby sport a spray-painted "Scourge Sisters" tag on it. You're a thousand plus miles from home, your ride (Bro's ride, really) is damaged beyond your ability to fix, you have literally twelve bucks in your pocket, and you're supposed to be back home in two days or else Bro finds out you've been sneaking around.

Oh fuck.

You're so dead.

Rose finds you crying in the parking lot an hour later. She takes one look at your tear covered cheeks, the snot hanging out of your nose, and the once-motorcycle, before she ushers you back into the house and hides you away in her bedroom.

She calls in her older sister's boyfriend, Hale Strider (one of your many cousins, you assume, but you've never met the guy before). She claims he can fix the bike. And he does, within hours, though he never stops talking. And, thank all the Gods responsible, it looks exactly as it did before the "Scourge Sisters" got their fucking paws on it.

Maybe you aren't dead.

You make the eighteen-hour drive back to Texas in twenty hours (you pulled into a rest stop to grab a couple hours of sleep). Bro is waiting for you when you get home. He has sandpaper, and the puppets. Also his entire collection of shitty weapons is sitting just inside the garage doors.

He's scowling.

You're probably going to wet your pants.

The puppets are everywhere.

You yelp, but you take your beating like a man. Hale Strider is a man marked for death at your hands. His traitor's ass is yours.


	62. FeferiCondesce Br5

**Condesce and Feferi: "Après moi, le déluge." (After me, the flood.) - alleged quote from Louis XV of France.**

* * *

Feferi can look in the mirror and see her ancestor. She can see the slope of her horns, how they're thickening at the bottom and how tall they're getting (just like her ancestor's). She can see the power of an empress in the cords of muscle running down her arms and legs and thighs. She is power incarnate, just like her ancestor.

She can hear the whispers of her lusus in her mind. They've been growing louder every sweep. At some point, it will become unbearable and she will be forced off-planet in an attempt to take the throne. Then she will ascend the throne of Her Imperial Condescension, take the empire into her own class, and take on a title of her own. She sometimes thinks she likes Her Imperial Luminescence. Maybe, when she's queen…

But that is still sweeps away.

Or at least that's what you think. You're six sweeps old when your lusus' shrieks become unbearable. You're small and scrawny, and all the cords of muscle in your entire body are quivering with the pain of it. Eridan comes with you, declares that he loves you too much to let you go alone (you know he means he loves with you to let you die alone, you don't expect to survive this).

Your ancestor is huge. She's triple your height, and her hair alone could hide Eridan and his skyhorse in it. She's stronger than you, looks stronger than you, and Eridan is beside you fighting his instinctive urge to kneel before his ruler.

"Whale, guppy?" Your ancestor smirks, leaning on her 2x3-dent in a very amused way. "Mom send you all the way here to trout-a krill me?" And then she laughs. Long and hard, and you hear it reverberate in your thorax all deep and powerful. You snarl, because your lusus' screams haven't abated and you're so angry at everything, and Eridan is cowering in the corner and this _bitch is going to die_.

Your ancestor has her back turned to you when you shove your own 2x3-dent deep into her thoracic cavity. She gurgles, and when you pull it out with a vicious twist, she stares at you with disbelief. Her condescension was the death of her. You pant, and you can hardly believe you're alive. Six sweeps old, and _queen_. Eridan stands, but there is a fear in his eyes that make you question how pale he is for you.

And that angers you more than anything. So you straighten up, and with fuchsia painted hands, you direct him out the doors. "Get the court subjugglator," she snarls, suddenly tired of her moirail's face. "There's going to be some changes around here."

_After me_, she thinks as she prods her ancestor's body with a toe, _the deluge_.


	63. EquiusKanaya Br5

**Equius (hearts) Kanaya: "Do you ever feel like falling/For someone you never thought of falling for?/But without him/Though you move, you're getting nowhere" -Studio Killers, Who Is In Your Heart Now?**

* * *

Some mornings, long after Nepeta has fallen asleep at her keyboard from late jamming sessions, Equius watches the light of Alternia's harsh sun sweep over the cliffs. He looks, and wonders what it would feel like to let that burning sun touch his skin. Would it be pleasant to die that way? To let the warmth of the star wash over him, baking away him and his impurities until nothing is left but clean ashes.

He washes those thoughts away at the ablution trap, and bids Kanaya an early morning. She always logs onto trollian at this hour, for some reason, and he finds it rude not to acknowledge her. She's pleasant and dignified, and he cautiously holds the opinion that Kanaya Maryam is a jewel amongst their uncouth peers.

Nepeta teases him about a flushed crush, which is nonsense. He barely knows the girl! He just has amicable chats with her as the sun rises, before he inevitably starts dozing at his keyboard and has to retire. It's all very simple, _friendly_ stuff, nothing flushed, pitched, pale, or even remotely ashen about it, thank you very much, Nepeta.

The game is much different, because by then he's seen her in person. And he can't ignore that she is, as Eridan ungracefully and grudgingly puts it, "Wwhale, she's freakin' beautiful. Wwhat? Wwe're all thinkin' it, I'm just sayin'." Not that anyone takes him seriously, or that anyone notices the blue blush or the nervous sweat Equius had worked up.

He'd thought he'd been the only one to notice. And then it's nothing but quests and busy and the times he carves out for Nepeta, and the time he makes just so he can talk to Kanaya. She's graceful, and glorious, and there are hints of raw power in the curve of her muscles and he wonders if she'd ever feel the same for him. How could she? She was a goddess and he felt so unfit to even talk to her as much as he did.

"Nepeta." He'd said once, during a jam. "I need to…fix myself. I…"

"For Kanaya, right?" she'd asked gently, a tender affection in the curve of her smile. And he'd blushed and fallen silent, unknowing of how to agree. "It's okay, Equ-hiss!" Nepeta said cheerily, "We can make it work!"

And, by some miracle…they do. It makes a difference, the others notice. And then, the day they gather on the battlefield, he stands by her and says. "Kanaya Maryam, I do believe I am flushed for you." And she smiles, and his heart almost stops with a flood of emotion.


	64. BetaBroDave Br5

**Beta Bro/Dave: _Carry on, my wayward son/There'll be peace when you are done/Lay your weary head to rest/Don't you cry no more. _- Kansas, _Carry On My Wayward Son_**

* * *

"Bro went on a hunting trip, and hasn't been home in a few days." Dirk says softly, leaning quietly against the doorframe. Hale is a barely illuminated silhouette behind him, but it's clear he's keeping an eye out for…strange things. Dave counts up to forty seconds in his head, trying to rationalize. Derrick "Bro" Strider always disappeared on hunts, especially after Daniel "Big Bro" Strider's unfortunate and fiery demise.

"Bro always disappears." Dave ended up saying bluntly. "It's nothing we should worry about, right?" Besides, he hadn't hunted with his brothers for years, not since he'd met up with the Harleys. Jade's dog Bequerel had a nasty way of ripping vampire's heads off with his jaws, Jade herself was a master marksman, and old man Harley was no slouch with a gun.

"Not for this long." Hale adds, a touch of tension making his words come off robotic. Dave sighs, and ruffles his hair. Motioning for his brothers to "wait there," Dave dives back into his apartment to scrounge up his emergency pack. Checking it over for the appropriate weapons and appropriated military rations, Dave reckons he is as prepared as he can be.

Besides, anything he didn't have, Dirk and Hale probably had in that TARDIS-like car of theirs.

"So," Dave says after tossing his rucksack into the trunk of the dark Chevy, "Do you guys have any idea where Bro is now?" As expected, neither says a word, though they do exchange an unreadable look. Damn, but that twin thing was still creepy, even after all these years. "Great…so what's the game plan."

"We're going to find him, Davey." Dirk says defensively, as if his littlest brother doesn't believe him (he doesn't, but…whatever). "We are. We're just going to have to…pick up clues along the way."

"Along the way?" Dave deadpans, brows furrowing. "What the hell does that mean?"

Hale shifts, and Dirk looks guilty. "Well…we were going to just do odd jobs as we investigated."

"You know, the family business." Hale adds, "Saving people, hunting things?"

Dave grinds his teeth together in frustration. "So you have no idea where he is? Where his last hunt took him?"

"Somewhere in Idaho…we think. Bro is never very verbose about his jobs, surely you can remember that." Dirk says, though there is an unspoken accusation in there. Because maybe Bro disappeared often, maybe Dirk and Hale were too reckless, but Dave left. Dave abandoned the family.

Dave abandoned Bro.

Hiding his flinch at the loaded words, Dave sighed. "Okay. Idaho, huh? Home of the potato?" Hale snorts, and there might be a crack of a smile on Dirk's face. Sliding into the backseat of Dirk's Chevy, Dave resigned himself to a long car ride with his estranged brothers. "Let's find our wayward Bro."


	65. EridanFeferi Br5

**Eridan/Vriska: "Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" -The Bible, Second Book of Samuel 1:25; Done for Eridan/Feferi, because I CAN'T READ APPARENTLY.**

* * *

Feferi lay still and cold at his feet, oh, how the mighty had fallen. But did he mean her? Or did he mean himself? He wasn't sure. His death grip on his wand reminded him of his sin, that he had been the one to kill her. Wasn't it ironic? That his love would come to this? A shot in the dark and fuchsia on his hands, and this was all he amounted to?

He turned to the side and vomited, heaving until his body had nothing else to lose. He shook all over, muscles trembling and eyes unsteady. God, he'd actually done it. There was actually fuchsia blood on his hands. He'd killed her. He'd…he'd killed her. Horrified, he violently brushed past Kanaya and her matriorb in his rush to his own quarters, and scrubbed at his hands until they were raw and violet beaded up where he'd scrubbed too hard.

And he could still see it. The way her blood had flowed out of her and onto him, and it coated his shoes and his hands and oh God he couldn't get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off! Sobbing, he scrubbed harder, snarling through the tears when the cleaning agent stung the open wounds he was inflicting on himself.

"Get it off!" He screamed at his reflection, a face flecked with Fef's blood and smeared with his own violet-tinged tears. He smashed the mirror. The hours crept by, and he curled into the corner of his dark room and pretended the blood on his hands was just his own and not a mixture of Sollux's and Feferi's and his own. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Kanaya and Karkat found him later, still in that corner. "Eridan?" They could hear him muttering to himself, but it was dark in here. "Eridan?"

"Get it off."

"Get what off, Eridan?"

"Get it off."

Karkat shot Kanaya a worried look. He wasn't sure he could fight another deranged highblood, and with a new moirail on the table, pacifying Eridan that way was certainly not applicable. "Kanaya…"

"Eridan Ampora, you come out this instant."

"NO! It's still there I have to get it off!"

"He's delusional, Kanaya, let's get out of here."

"Get it off, get it off…Get it off."

The scrubbing noises started up again, and the thoroughly unnerved pair swiftly exited. Eridan kept scratching at his hands, at the blood he knew was staining his rings and fingers and skin, and snarled at the shadows.

Get it off, get it off, get it off.


	66. DaveJohn Br6

**Dave/John: Post-apocalyptic + Youtube Let's Play channels**

* * *

"Hump the moist cave wall." John directs aloud, for the sake of his audience. So he bumps around on screen, twisting around as he tries to follow the instruction. "Dave, hump the moist cave wall." Again, he bumps around the cave, but is unable to go against his coding. John laughs, and says something about the unimaginative nature of video games these days.

Dave is made to exit the cave, and returns to the desert world outside the underground oasis. The sun is bright enough to be blinding, but that's why he was programmed to wear these cool as hell shades. The wind is biting, picking up sand to blur visibility and beat away at unprotected skin. That's the reason he's wearing thick jeans and a button up shirt in supposedly hundred-degree weather.

There's a reason for everything in this game. So if he has to give up some durability during the day just to keep his health from being chipped away by the sandstorms, so be it. The nearest town from this point on the map is twelve in-game days away. Water is scarce, and his canteen is nearly empty. Monsters roam the wastes at night, and sometimes even the thought of coming face to face with one of the screeching, Lovecraftian monsters makes him weak at the knees.

Not that John cares, though he explains the situation with the weather and the monsters well enough to the camera.

"Okay, so instead of taking our chances with the sun and sandstorms, we're going to have Dave wait it out in the cave. He's pretty handy with a sword, since we spent all those skill points on his weaponry, so he'll probably not have too much of an issue with the crap that likes to attack at night."

He scowls as he takes laps around the cave. The only bright side is John has him refill his canteen. Even just that much more water could mean his survival. The major downside would be the way the cavern room grows dimmer and dimmer as the sun inevitably sinks beneath the horizon. If only John had to deal with the agony of the wait, like he did.

"Okay, Dave!" John says happily, still playing narrator. "Exit the cave!" He does, though if he could he'd be swearing up, down, and sideways about leaving the shelter of the oasis. If he died out here, his sister would have to take up the mantle. Rose was better with magic than he was, but her defense was shoddy at best.

God help him, but if he could survive to town, maybe he'd be able to see her again.


End file.
